Back Where We Started
by Strawberry Champagne
Summary: Yuri thought that he had left his childhood memories in the past, but apparently they weren't done with him. YurixFlynn, college!AU. Revised; multichapter version.
1. Chapter 1

_This is a real-world college AU of Tales of Vesperia. I've put a lot of effort into developing a setting based on the background and personalities of the game characters—I hope that nothing feels OOC, though this story's universe necessitates some changes from having a different childhood experience and worldview. I've tried to make the situations fairly believable. If anyone notices something that feels off, please let me know and I'll do my best to fix it or do better in the future. *smiles* Thank you; I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

**1.**

Yuri made it through an entire semester and half of the next one before he finally had to visit the campus library. It wasn't that he didn't ever read, but the two-story brick building, with its musty smell and desks filled with earnest studiers, wasn't exactly high on his list of places to spend his time. He hadn't decided on a major yet, but when he did, it definitely wasn't going to be one of those where the library would become a common haunt.

Unfortunately, being a freshman meant core classes, and only Algebra didn't have the dreaded essays and term papers listed on its syllabus. Last semester, he'd taken Biology, some ridiculous Freshman Welcome course and Astronomy, because it filled the rest of the science requirement and sounded interesting. (It wasn't.) Now his English class had assigned him a book to read in preparation for some kind of comparative essay—so, off to the library it was.

With a sigh, Yuri ascended the steps and was greeted with row upon row of books, the end of the shelves plastered with only the vaguest of signs indicating what each section contained. Stupid system—even if he entered the book he wanted into the computer, he still had to go find the right row as a starting point. It was mid-afternoon and the library wasn't very busy, not that there ever were very many people lingering among the stacks. Who would want to?

People like that guy, apparently. He was at a table in a central area amidst the shelves, bent over some complicated looking textbook and every so often scribbling notes onto a nearby piece of paper. Yuri passed by and found what he thought was the right shelf just a couple of rows over. He turned into it, muttering darkly as he scanned the rows of books, the nonsensical numbers and decimal points on their spines.

Yeah, he would find the book. It was supposed to be...right here. Dammit. This was starting to piss him off. Maybe someone had checked it out already. Better that than admit he had no clue what he was doing. He huffed an exasperated sigh.

"Problems?"

Ah. Mr. Diligent Student.

"Nah, I'm good." He ran a hand over the top his head, puzzling over the situation. The slip of paper with a number hastily scrawled onto it didn't match what he was looking at—this was where the classic literature was supposed to be, right? Without thinking of how it sounded, he let loose a mild curse; not loud, he knew enough about libraries for that, but definitely audible.

"Let me see." And the guy snatched the paper out from where Yuri loosely held it between his fingers. When had he even gotten over there? He could only blink at him, watching as he examined the number.

"Right. You're looking for classics. This is where you find English anthologies. You were very close, though." His mouth twitched a little with what Yuri could only assume was amusement. "It should be just on the other side. Here."

He turned the corner onto the next row, even though he had already told Yuri where to find the book and could have just returned to whatever he was doing. Yuri followed wordlessly, stopping when the other guy crouched down, running a finger along the books and pulling out a thick volume.

"Melville, hm? Good luck with that." He handed the book to Yuri. The title was written in fancy gold script across the front, and Yuri was _way_ too mature to laugh at it. (Snickering for half a second when he saw it listed on the paper in class didn't count.)

"Is it bad?"

"Not really, but he's very descriptive," he said, shrugging a little. "You'll probably be bored."

"Oh, yeah?" An edge of defensiveness crept into Yuri's voice. What did this guy know about him, anyway?

The comment earned him a level gaze. "Almost certainly."

Yuri held the look—this guy's eyes were _really_ blue. Wait, what? He shook his head, turning to go.

"Whatever. Thanks," he said, shaking the hand that held the book through the air.

"Wait." A touch on his arm stalled his exit. "Sorry, that didn't come out right. Um. You probably _will_ be bored, if only because almost everyone finds him boring. It's about whaling, after all."

Yuri resisted rolling his eyes, placing a hand on his hip instead. Why was he still standing there making small talk with exactly the type of student he didn't want to become?

"I take it you've read this. Did _you_ like it?"

"No." The hint of a smile appeared.

"Heh. Hypocrite."

He did smile, then, a sunny grin that matched the slightly messy blond hair that fell across his eyes.

"It appears so. I'm Flynn." He stuck out his hand, leaving Yuri to stare at it for half a second before clasping it in his own.

"Yuri."

An eyebrow went up, as often happened when he introduced himself. He suppressed a sigh. Might as well get the obligatory explanation out of the way.

"Yeah, it's a family name. My great-grandfather was a Russian immigrant."

"Really? Hmm."

"What about you? Flynn's not really that common, either."

"It's Irish."

"Ah. Are you?"

"I'm not sure—maybe a little bit, somewhere. My mom just liked the name, I think." He shrugged. "It could be worse. She almost named me Finn."

"What, like Huckleberry?" Yuri snorted. "Oh, yeah. You definitely dodged a bullet there."

Somewhere along the way, they had drifted out of the bookshelves and back toward the table where Flynn had been studying. He tucked the paper into his book and closed it, picking it up to carry it under his arm. The guy couldn't have finished studying at the exact instant that Yuri had his minor library book crisis, and some of his confusion must have carried over onto his face.

"The rest can wait until after dinner," said Flynn. A pause, blue eyes flickering over. "Have you eaten yet?"

Yuri had not, a fact that a distant ache in his stomach reminded him. Huh. Apparently he'd somehow made a good impression on this guy, if he wanted to continue their conversation over dinner. The only question was, did _he_ want to? Ah, hell, why not. It would be better than returning to his dorm room, where he'd probably spend the evening eating ramen and procrastinating on reading the first assignment out of this stupid book.

"Nah, I was thinking of heading over to the dining hall myself. After I take care of this, I'll meet you there." He waved the book at Flynn—again—and approached the desk, as-yet-unused library card in hand.

* * *

Flynn had grabbed a booth by the window, and at least had the decency not to embarrass Yuri by waving at him as he entered the room. Instead, he briefly inclined his head, sliding out of the seat and joining Yuri as he walked toward the cafeteria line. It was kind of a pain to be herded through en masse for what was almost always crappy food. Most days, Yuri didn't bother with it. He had a mini-fridge and a microwave in his dorm room, and that was enough for him.

They wove through the long tables and were almost halfway there when a group of girls at Yuri's right started giggling. Ugh, perfect.

"_Yuri_-kun," one called, which just set the rest of them off again. He stalked away, Flynn walking faster to keep up with him.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"That's the anime club," said Yuri, nodding subtly in their direction. "One of them was in a class with me last semester. I guess they felt they needed to tell me that my name was also the word for 'lesbian porn' in, I don't know, Japanese or something." He shook his head, grabbing a tray from the stack at the kitchen's entrance.

Flynn, who had picked up his tray and silverware ahead of him, only chuckled and made a brief, thoughtful sound. Huh, that was different. Usually when Yuri told that anecdote, guys would say something like "nothin' wrong with that" or make some lewd comment. As he followed Flynn in the slow, shuffling line, Yuri didn't have much to look at—he found his eyes wandering, settling at one point on Flynn's back pocket. Now, he didn't really know or care much about clothes, but weren't those _designer_ jeans? Expensive ones, by the look of it. Yuri bit back a laugh, adding that detail together with the soft cadence of Flynn's voice and other things that might not really have meant anything on their own.

He was staring, he knew, but had to admit that the view was a nice one. Either the jeans had been specifically tailored for this guy, or he had been lucky enough to find a pair that struck the balance of being form-fitting but not awkwardly tight. Then he realized that Flynn had turned toward the pasta station, and was looking back at him. The expression on his face could only be described as...bemused. Oh. Busted. Yuri didn't think he broadcast his preferences like this guy did, but there wasn't really an innocent explanation for where his gaze had been focusing. He filled a section of his tray, doing his best to look nonchalant.

They were at the drink station on the other side of the kitchen when Flynn leaned toward Yuri and spoke under the loud hum of the cafeteria's numerous conversations.

"I believe the phrase 'take a picture, it'll last longer' is appropriate in this case?"

Yuri snorted. "Funny," he said, pressing his glass against the soda dispenser. "Did it take you this whole time to come up with that one?"

Grabbing a straw for his own drink, Flynn shook his head. "I could have said it then, but decided not to call you out—literally, if I'm not mistaken," he added, eyebrow raised a stitch, "—in the middle of the cafeteria line."

"Hmph. Yeah, well, don't read too much into it." Yuri grabbed his tray, half wondering why he had even said that. Natural defensiveness, he guessed. Kind of stupid, though—the guy was clearly interested, knew from Yuri's careless ogling that he might be, and his looks weren't half bad, even if he was one of those nerdy library-goers.

They made it back to the booth, setting down their trays and drinks. They hadn't said anything to each other on the way back. Well, this was awkward. Yuri cleared his throat.

"So, you're a freshman too, right? Have you decided on a major?" Okay, now who was the nerd? Despite Yuri's thought that it was an incredibly lame question to break the ice with, Flynn just nodded.

"Criminal justice, on the pre-law track."

Yuri almost choked on a bite of overcooked pork chop. He'd known the guy was kind of hardcore, but this? Flynn was _choosing_ to go into a field that would take more than the minimum four years, not to mention countless hours of memorization and study. Yuri was willing to bet he was the type that would be able to get into one of those prestigious law schools, too.

"Woah." Flynn smiled as he speared a steamed carrot on his fork, and Yuri attempted to recover. "So, why law?"

He shrugged. "You'll probably laugh."

"Try me."

"Fine." Flynn squared his shoulders, looking surprisingly determined. "I want to change things from the inside, to have a hand in bringing people to justice and making this country a safer place."

Yuri blinked, not inclined to laughter at all. He'd had similar thoughts, before, but had never really known how to go about it. He definitely wasn't cut out for law school, though. At least, he didn't think so. Oddly, Flynn's words dredged up vague yet powerful memories, but Yuri didn't feel like sorting through them at the moment.

"You know," he said, tilting his head, "for some reason, I believe you could do it."

"I will," said Flynn, eyes intense.

Man. Who was this guy?

Yuri changed the subject to something lighter, and they chatted and ate for a while. The dining hall's overhead speaker announced that it would be closing in thirty minutes—time had gone by a lot more quickly than Yuri had expected. Flynn, he had to admit, made good company. Somehow, though, their conversation turned to the past.

"I grew up in a suburb of D.C.," Flynn was saying, naming the town, and Yuri's eyes widened a little.

"Hey, no kidding? I lived there until I was 9."

Flynn smiled. "Small world, isn't it?" Then an odd expression came over his face, but he shook it off.

"No, that's impossible," he said under his breath. "That wasn't his name."

Yuri's curiosity was piqued. "What's that?"

"Oh, nothing." Flynn took a sip of his drink, but he looked a little shaken. "I just knew someone, once. It wasn't for long, but he was in my karate class."

Karate? Wait, no _way_. Memories flooded back into his mind, fuzzy at first but steadily clearer. Yuri had kept them in a mental box for a long time—that had been the summer of his parents' accident, the beginning of a long string of foster parents. It wasn't something he liked to remember, and so the karate class he had begun just a few months beforehand had gotten repressed along with it.

"Flynn, was this kid named Connor?"

The color—and there hadn't been a lot to begin with—drained out of Flynn's face. He nodded mutely, and Yuri couldn't help laughing.

"I used to go by my middle name, because I thought my first name was too weird," he started explaining to Flynn, who was, apparently, speechless. "You were in the class, too? Woah, hang on. I _remember_ you. That scrawny blond kid I used to hang out with while I waited for my mom to pick me up." He pressed a hand to his forehead, grinning with disbelief. It was all coming back to him, now. No wonder the name had tickled his mind with an odd familiarity.

"You were pretty scrawny yourself," Flynn countered with a smirk, seeming to have recovered some. "That's why they always paired us for sparring partners."

Oh, yeah. He definitely remembered, now. Despite their similar sizes, Flynn had always had the advantage in their sparring matches—no matter how he dodged and twisted, Yuri was the one who ended up pinned to the mat, staring into the kid's victorious smile. He laughed again, but for a different reason.

"What?"

"It's just funny," said Yuri. "I can't believe I forgot about you."

Flynn's lips curved upwards a little. "I'm flattered, but it's understandable. We didn't know each other all that long."

"Yeah, but..." Yuri shrugged. "You were my first crush."

The priceless look on Flynn's face was totally worth the confession. It was true, though. At nine, he was pretty confused by the fluttery feelings he got whenever the other kid leaned over him on the floor, hands around his skinny wrists preventing him from further attack. It would be several more years until he figured out what was going on, and he didn't dwell on that first moment of attraction as it got lumped into that painful period in his life. Now, though? It all made sense.

"Well," said Flynn, after a moment. "I hope that my current self lives up to your childhood memory."

Yuri leaned in conspiratorially with a wide, mischievous grin. "Definitely."

A deep flush colored Flynn's cheeks almost instantly. Oh, this was going to be way too much fun.

* * *

The speaker warned the scattered few remaining students that the dining hall would be closing shortly. Yuri stood, picking up the mostly empty tray and his cup, now only half-filled with ice.

"Guess we'd better go," he said. "What dorm are you in?"

"Deidon Hall."

Not far from his. Interesting.

They started walking across the dark campus together, companionably silent for a while. After crossing a street and stepping up onto the sidewalk that led to their dorm halls, Flynn abruptly stopped.

"Yuri," he said, voice almost soft.

"Hm?"

"This might sound a bit silly, but...do you remember making a promise?"

Yeah, he was right. It did sound silly, and not at all something that Yuri would do. At least, not the Yuri of today. Unfortunately, he did remember, as soon as Flynn mentioned it.

"Something about changing the world, right?" Yuri smirked, looking up at the dark sky. What an idealistic thing to promise; how much difference could two people really make?

"Yeah," said Flynn.

Oh, the law thing. Was it because of what they'd said back then? That was _his _fault? Yuri chuckled at the irony of it all. Or at least, he thought it was irony. Hadn't really been paying attention in English class when they explained it.

A loud, slightly distorted sequence of musical notes interrupted the moment, to Yuri's private relief. He fished through his bag and retrieved his phone, flipping it open.

"Hey, Estelle. What's up?" He nodded toward Flynn in apology, but he waved it away.

"Yuri! You'll never guess what happened at school today."

"Hmm, Judy got in trouble for breaking the dress code?"

An indignant sound came through the earpiece. "No fair. How'd you guess?"

"It happens just about every week, Estelle." He chuckled. Judy, a junior at the high school, had a penchant for revealing clothing and didn't seem to care that she got dragged into the principal's office for it on a regular basis. Yuri knew her through Estelle, who he had met in drama class when she was an entering freshman and he was a senior. The girl was sweet, if a bit hyperactive, and he found himself forming a close friendship with her as they practiced for the class productions. It was an unlikely one, not only because of the age difference but also because she was the heiress to an international corporation. Yuri couldn't stand entitled rich people, but she managed not to be too much of a spoiled little princess.

"But it's a _big deal _this time, Yuri! They're going to have a meeting with her parents and everything."

"Judy can take care of herself; it's not the end of the world." Nearby, Flynn laughed a little—the girl's chirpy voice carried so much that Yuri had to hold the phone a few inches away from his ear.

"Is someone with you? Ohmygosh, if you have a boyfriend and didn't tell me about it..." Yuri could almost hear her pout through the phone.

"No, it's..." He had been about to say 'nothing like that,' but that wasn't entirely true. "It's funny, actually. I ran into someone that I was friends with before I moved here."

"Oooh. Is he cute? I bet he is." Estelle gasped. "Are you at your dorm room? Did I interrupt anything? I'm so sorry."

Yuri glanced over at Flynn, who coughed out a laugh—it was hard to tell under the streetlights, but he might have been blushing again.

"No, but I do have to go. We'll talk about Judy later, okay?"

"Okay, fine. But you're going to tell me all about this guy. Every last detail."

"Alright, alright. Later, Estelle."

"Bye!"

He clicked the phone shut, shaking his head.

"Well," said Flynn, "_that_ wasn't embarrassing."

Yuri grinned. "That's Estelle for you. She's actually pretty great. I think you'd like her."

"You think so? Hmm." They were walking again, the sidewalk running parallel to Yuri's dorm building. He stopped at the outer staircase, hand on the rail.

"Hey, can I get your cell number?"

Flynn nodded, reciting it, and Yuri punched it into his phone, calling the number so that he could program him in, too. He started up the steps, thinking of what he needed to do once he got to his room—that book rested heavily in the bag slung over his shoulder, and Yuri groaned as he remembered he would have to crack it open.

At the first landing, he leaned over the rail; Flynn had just started to walk toward his own hall.

"Flynn," he called, and the blond craned his neck to look up at him. "Do you want to come up?" He ran through some good excuses for the invitation, but honestly couldn't think of any, so he just grinned in what he hoped was a friendly way.

Flynn froze for a moment, then nodded, starting up the stairs. Yuri waited, leading him a few doors down to the room he shared with a sophomore named Eric. They didn't see each other very often—Eric was constantly at practices for the basketball team, and they just didn't have much in common. Unlocking the door and pulling it open, Yuri ushered Flynn into the room.

"Welcome," he said, sweeping a hand over his side, divided by two desks backed up against each other.

"It's messy." Flynn wrinkled his nose as he took in the crumpled clothing on the floor, unmade bed and various wrappers scattered on the desk.

Yuri ignored the comment, tossing his bag into a corner. The book could wait, even if he had to stay up late or read the pages while he got ready for class. Might as well, anyway, if it was really that boring.

He glanced over at Flynn—who was still scrutinizing the state of his room—and rolled his eyes.

"It's not that big of a deal," he said.

"It's unsanitary."

Yuri ducked his head, laughing at the nerve of this guy. "Yeah, I bet you spray your room with air freshener and…I dunno, fold your socks."

Flynn said nothing. Wait, so he _did_? The image distracted Yuri enough that he almost jumped a little when the blond finally spoke again, close behind him.

"How can you live like this?"

"This is normal," said Yuri, turning to face him. "You're the weird one."

Flynn opened his mouth indignantly. "Excuse me? You're the one with hair halfway down your back and a clothing palette that can only be described as goth-chic." He crossed his arms, apparently feeling that he had bested him. It earned him another eye roll.

"Whatever. Neat freak."

"Slob," Flynn countered, and if he was going to add anything else to that, Yuri would never know—he had stepped forward and was kissing him, slowly at first until Flynn recovered from the shock, and then with more fervor. Yuri realized that things had come full circle in this moment, and for some reason he found that hysterical. He laughed against Flynn's mouth, which earned him a brief, confused sound. Instead of explaining, Yuri slid his hand into that back pocket he'd been so fixated on earlier, teasing his tongue along Flynn's lower lip and between his parted teeth. Things were getting pretty heated, and Flynn wasn't backing down, to Yuri's surprise—he ran his fingers through dark hair, barely stopping to catch his breath.

One thing Yuri hadn't counted on, though, was the door lock clicking open. Before they could do anything about it, Eric entered the room. His eyes immediately lit on the pair, disentangling themselves just a little too late.

"What the hell," he growled, staring at them for a moment in disgust before grabbing what he had come into the room for and stalking back out. The sound of the slammed door lingered in the air for a while.

"Um," said Flynn, scratching the back of his tousled blond hair. "I hope I didn't cause you trouble."

"Nah," said Yuri, breathing deeply. The one time that he and that jock would end up crossing paths... "He'll look at me differently, I think, but I can deal with it."

Flynn nodded thoughtfully, then smiled. It held amusement, a little regret.

"I should go."

He headed for the door, looking back for a moment. "I'll see you later?"

Yuri grinned. "Oh, yeah. And hey, it was nice meeting you. Again." He winked, and Flynn laughed.

"You too." Then he was gone. Yuri chuckled to himself as he scrolled to Estelle's name on his contacts list and brought the phone up to his ear, listening as it rang only once.

"_Tell_ me," she said. So he did.

* * *

A/N: Some of you may have already read this over at my writing journal on LJ, though it's been edited somewhat. This is going to be a multichapter now (though I'm still working just as diligently to update _Glass Fortress_), and the chapters may be somewhat more sporadic than my other fic. It really depends on what kind of response I get and whether the plot bunnies bite. Unlike GF, I don't have the overall story of this one plotted out. But I do have ideas for the immediate future, and _will_ have the next part of this up shortly!


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**

Yuri felt cheated. As it turned out, the professor of his English class barely even discussed their reading assignment. So he'd read (okay, skimmed) twenty-five torturous pages of sailing descriptions for nothing. Sure, he would have had to read it eventually, but _eventually_ was the operating word. Yuri wasn't really a fan of doing something today that could be done tomorrow, or next week, or anytime where he couldn't be doing something more fun.

His job didn't really fall into the "fun" category either, but money was one of those unavoidable needs that couldn't be procrastinated away. Working at the on-campus coffee shop didn't bring in a lot, but it was enough for the basics: food, car payments, the occasional entertainment costs when Estelle or Judy dragged him out somewhere. It suited him, even if the customers could be annoying.

Mid-afternoon found him leaning against the counter during a lull; he had just finished sweeping up scone crumbs in the front and restocking everything that needed to be restocked, and was in that weird place where there was nothing to do but zone out staring at the door and wait for the next customer to come in. His coworker for that shift had left thirty minutes ago, and another one wasn't due for about as long.

When the door did open, Yuri's bored, half-focused mind didn't register who it was until he was practically in front of him. He pushed up off his elbows, a smirk forming as he watched Flynn's equally bored expression change when he realized who was behind the counter. His eyes widened behind rectangular-framed glasses (…had he been wearing those last night? Yuri didn't think so, although he didn't get a good look in the library before he'd come to help him) and he crossed his arms.

"You work _here_? Of course you do. I take it back—you're not goth, you're some kind of hipster or something."

Yuri snorted. "Nah, I'm just broke."

Flynn nodded sympathetically as he glanced back at the otherwise empty shop, and Yuri took the opportunity to look him over. It was cold out, so he was wearing a charcoal gray cardigan, some nondescript long-sleeved shirt peeking out underneath, and dark wash jeans. A different pair, not quite as…(_tight? form-fitting? utterly distracting?_ Yuri's mind supplied) expensive-looking.

"Guess it's a slow afternoon," said Flynn when he turned back around. It was one of those mindless things that customers said just to fill the air, and normally it would make Yuri want to grit his teeth. But the lazy smile directed at him was so disarming that he decided to dispense with the cynicism, just this once.

"Yeah. It'll pick up later. Anyway, what'll it be?"

Flynn looked at him for a moment like he didn't know what he was talking about, then laughed a little, bowing his head so that jagged bangs fell over his glasses.

"I haven't decided yet. Coffee, of course…I just don't know what kind. Don't let me keep you, though. If you were doing something when I walked in."

It was Yuri's turn to nod idly. He stepped over to one of the machines, practiced fingers moving across it. Now turned sideways from Flynn's perspective, his eyes flicked over casually.

"So," he said, "you wear glasses?"

"What? Oh." Flynn reached up and took them off one-handed, looked at the glasses for a moment before folding them and slipping them into a pocket. "They're reading glasses. I forget I'm wearing them after a while." He smiled ruefully.

Ah, right. While Yuri had been busy checking him out, he'd almost forgotten that this was the guy with his nose stuck in a textbook, and who had already read that stupid whaling novel. At least he hadn't enjoyed it, either. Otherwise Yuri might have to write him off. Maybe.

"Studying again, huh? Man, too bad you can't do that for me."

Flynn was chuckling good-naturedly at this comment when Yuri walked back over, but he blinked at the paper cup held out in front of him, filled to the brim with dark liquid.

"Uh, that's not…I mean, I don't…"

"This is the good stuff, man. Don't tell me you want one of those frothy milk drinks. Just so you know, I don't do foam art."

Flynn smiled tightly as he glanced up at the menu board. Ugh, only the people who wanted flavored crap ever looked at the menu board.

"I'm shocked, believe me." He drummed his fingers on the counter for a moment. "Okay. I'll take a white chocolate mocha. No whip. This size." A tap on the middle cup taped down on top of the glass pastry case.

Yuri made a vague sound of acknowledgment, taking a sip of the dark roast—no need for it to go to waste—and setting it aside before heading over to the machines. Somewhere between adding the steamed milk and drizzling flavored syrup into the cup, he started muttering to himself. About customers who wouldn't know real coffee if it bit them—the mechanics of that analogy were unimportant—and ordered girly drinks that barely deserved the name. Even the word "mocha" sounded so freakin'—

"Gay? Right." Okay, maybe Yuri hadn't exactly been watching his volume. Behind him, Flynn had settled into a chair at the nearest table. "Somehow I really don't think you have much room to talk. Speaking of, about last night…"

Yuri snapped a lid onto Flynn's drink and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, are you talking about the part where you had my hair in a death grip? Or the part where you were assaulting my tonsils. Not that I'm complaining."

Flynn blinked, then laughed abruptly, flashing a brilliant (if slightly embarrassed) grin that certainly did _not_ make Yuri's breath catch for half a second. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a girl with a messy brown ponytail holding the door open, her mouth gaping like a fish. The bell above the door jangled as she let it close again and ran off.

"Damn. And she's usually a good tipper, too." Yuri went to run his hands through his hair, only to remember it was pulled back. He settled for grimacing at the door, hand on hip, and slid the mocha across the counter. "That'll be $3.23."

It really had no right to be so distracting—Flynn, biting his lip a little as he dug into his right-hand pocket to retrieve a crumpled five and a handful of silver change. He plucked a quarter out of his palm and set it down on top of the bill, dropped the rest back into the pocket. Yuri quickly tapped some buttons on the register until the drawer slid out, tore off the receipt and gave it to Flynn with his change.

After the two pennies had been transferred into his hand, Flynn dropped them into the tip jar, smirking. "For you."

"Oh, thanks. Hey, I can quit being a hipster barista now."

In response, Flynn laughed again, but it was cut off when he glanced over at the door. "Um…"

Just beyond the glass, Ponytail was back. And she was not alone. She had one girl, tall and blonde, by the wrist, practically dragging her along. Another trailed not far behind. Suddenly, Yuri was pretty sure he knew what this was about. Dollar signs danced in his head; he grinned at Flynn.

"Play along, alright?"

The blond's brows scrunched together—Yuri catalogued the look as he came around to the other side of the counter. Without giving Flynn any other warning, he hooked two fingers around his belt loops and tugged him forward. Yuri leaned in, planted a kiss on his lips, on the corner of his jaw and…wow, this guy could turn red fast. He laughed into his neck, murmured "don't worry, I've kinda been wanting to do this since you walked in" as the door jangled behind them. There might've been a quickly stifled squeak, too. Hard to be sure.

"Sorry," said Yuri, releasing him. "Just couldn't help myself." Flynn made a strangled sound in the back of his throat and sat down—stood up and grabbed his mocha from the counter, then sat back down again. He was completely absorbed in drinking it when the girls approached the counter. And stared. Yeah, that was the one problem with this plan.

"Not a mind reader," Yuri drawled, arms crossed. "What can I get you?"

Ponytail's shoulders jumped as if she had been startled and not asked a perfectly reasonable question for someone standing at the counter of a coffee shop. She licked her lips—looking at the menu board, of course. Yuri expected it of someone like her.

"Um, a small chocolate mint frapp?"

Her voice was high and tiny, and she and the others kept stealing glances back at Flynn like the two of them were some kind of zoo exhibit. _And here we have gayus nerdius and his elusive relative, gayus lonerus, rarely seen in the wild._ Yuri decided to amuse himself with this instead of acting on his first instinct: a withering look and biting sarcasm.

"We don't have frappuccinos here. We're not Starbucks." Small words, so that hopefully she would understand. "I can get you an iced mocha and put some mint flavor in, though."

The girl nodded mutely, made her transaction and let her friends up to order. Over her shoulder, Yuri winked at Flynn…who was very pointedly not looking at him. Well, that didn't matter. The result would be the same. After each purchase, a generous portion of the change went into Yuri's tip jar. He resisted trying to see the denomination of the bills —tempting, but bad form.

"Thank you," said the blonde, and was echoed by the other two. Drinks in hand, they weren't even out the door before they started giggling. Once they had crossed the courtyard, Yuri slipped back around to the front and tilted the tip jar to retrieve the earnings of his little performance.

The tag-along friend had dropped in two folded bills—ones, but still not a bad haul considering her drink had barely cost that much. Blondie gave about the same, and together that was already more tip money than he got on some shifts. College kids were cheap; he couldn't really blame them, being one himself. But Ponytail…

"Oh, hell yeah!"

Yuri flopped down into a chair across from Flynn and waved the bill in front of his face. Slow, so he could see what it was.

"Wow, a ten? You weren't kidding, she _is_ a good tipper."

"Yeah, not that good." Yuri laughed as he set the bill on the table between them. "But really, man, I couldn't have done it without you. It's only fair that we split this."

Flynn stared at it, suddenly gone still and quiet. His hands were wrapped around his coffee cup, as if to warm them.

"You don't have to do that," he finally said, in a low, soft voice. Cleared his throat. "Seriously, keep it. It's fine."

He lifted the mocha to his lips, took a small sip and set it down, looking at the money instead of Yuri. Yeah, that wasn't a good sign.

"What—" Yuri began.

"Listen," said Flynn, which was only a slightly better way to start a conversation than 'we need to talk.' Normally that would've been Yuri's cue to run for the proverbial hills, but serious blue eyes lifted to meet his and held him there. "I like you; that much should be obvious. Despite appearances—oh, don't make that face, you know we're total opposites—you're fun to talk to, and…well." He scratched the back of his neck, smile a little embarrassed.

"Hey, I aim to please." Yuri smirked, and Flynn rolled his eyes.

"Ha, you're hilarious. Okay, but here's the thing. I don't _do_ that—I really don't go up to a guy's room that I just met and let hormones take over. Don't get me wrong, it was…nice. Very nice. Um. But completely uncharacteristic." Flynn took a breath and let it out, hands curled around the coffee cup again. "Sorry to make things all serious, but I don't really know what's going on here."

The conversation was already 'it's not you, it's me,' 'moving too fast,' and 'define the relationship' all rolled into one. Where was one of those long knives the shop used to cut bread for sandwiches when Yuri needed it? Ritual seppuku was starting to look pretty good at the moment.

"Okay…"

"It's just, I barely know you. Believe me, I know this kind of conversation sucks, especially considering that fact…"

Yuri snorted.

"Again, I'm sorry. You seem like a cool guy. I just…I don't do one night stands, or friends with benefits. That kind of thing. I'd like to get to know you, I really would. But…as a friend first? Man, I know, that sounds so lame."

Flynn ran a hand through his hair, shook his head and laughed a little to himself. And Yuri didn't really know what to say.

"Anyway," Flynn said after a moment. "I guess it's up to you…and if you just want…whatever_._ But you have my number and I'm sure I'll see you around. Sorry to spring that on you. Ah. Thanks for the coffee?"

With that last statement, he scooted his chair out from the table and stood, picked up his cup to throw it away.

Yuri licked his lips briefly, still feeling like he should say something else but having no idea what that would be. "Sure." Yeah, he definitely sucked at this.

The smile directed back at him was kind, but not a true Flynn-smile. Yuri was a little disturbed that he could already tell the difference. His mind didn't even register what exactly was said when goodbyes were exchanged, but somehow they were and Flynn stepped back out into the long shadows of the courtyard. Nothing to show he had been in the shop but a pulled out chair and, somewhere in the trashcan, the remnants of a lukewarm mocha.

It was then that Yuri realized: he'd just been given the 'but we can still be friends' speech. With a groan, he slid down and pressed his head against the cool surface of the table until the door jangled him back into mindless routine.

* * *

"So, yeah. Can someone break up with you if you're not even dating?" Yuri adjusted the phone as he flopped over onto his stomach. "Seriously. What the hell."

"Hmm." Judy had pins between her teeth; Yuri could tell by the way her voice vibrated through the phone, a little muffled. A long pause and a rustling-fabric sound before she answered. "Is that what you believe happened? I have to admit, I'm a little confused…"

"Heh. Tell me about it. Ugh, I dunno. All the classic signs were there. I mean. Forgetting the fact we were friends for a couple of months as kids, I just met the guy _yesterday._"

"Mmhm." More rustling. "And wasted no time, I see."

With the breezy, teasing tone of her voice, it was clear that she didn't mean it in a judgmental way. But still.

"Geez, Judy. I didn't have _sex_ with him." Yuri remembered at the last second to lower his voice, glanced over at the door. "Not that it was gonna end up that way; my idiot roommate made sure of that. Man, Flynn really would've guilt-tripped me then…"

He sighed, picking at a bit of lint on his pillowcase. It was a flannel one, and the fabric tended to pill pretty badly. Yuri wasn't sure if that was due to something that they did with the laundry, or if it was just because it was old. Not like he was going to complain, since he had been encouraged to stay with Lori and Ken on the weekends when most of the students lived off-campus. (Even if they were the foster parents that finally stuck, he'd been too old for them to ever be Mom and Dad, and luckily they didn't seem to mind.)

Judy was chuckling lightly, the snip of scissors somewhere in the background.

"Yes, it's probably better this way, from the sound of it. Speaking of the idiot roommate, though…"

Yuri let out a derisive little laugh. "Eric didn't come back last night. Probably found one of his teammates to take pity on him and let him crash in his room, since his roommate might molest him in his sleep."

"Yuri…"

"What?"

Judy let out one of those world-weary sighs that made it hard to believe she was only sixteen. She always felt kind of like an older sister, in a weird way that Yuri was unable to explain.

"Nothing, just…don't let him get to you; he _is_ an idiot, after all."

"Yeah. Not like we were buddies in the first place. But anyway. What am I gonna do about Flynn?"

Yuri could picture Judy in her room, cutting and folding bits of fabric, holding them in place with golden straight pins. She would hold off any machine sewing until they got off the phone; a conversation that consisted mostly of 'what?' and 'huh?' from Yuri's end was the last time she tried to multitask with that one. Judy hummed for a moment, thinking.

"You _do_ realize that 'we can be friends' isn't always just a line. He could mean that, you know."

Yuri did know. As apologetic as the guy had looked, Flynn did seem genuine in his desire to get to know him. And it wasn't like Yuri hadn't already been planning to hang out with him later before he'd spontaneously asked him up to his room—he hadn't even intended for the make-out session to happen. If he was being honest with himself, he kind of wished it hadn't, if it was going to make things this weird. Then it occurred to him that even with Judy occupied with her project, he was being kind of awkwardly silent and should probably tell _her_ these things.

"I see. And did you tell Flynn any of this?"

"Uh. No. He said I could call him, I said 'sure' and then he left. Because I'm an awesome conversationalist." Yuri huffed into the phone as he rolled over onto his back.

"Ah." He could almost see Judy nodding to herself. "_L'esprit d'escalier_."

"What."

"Really, Yuri. Weren't you paying any attention in French class?"

Clearly not, considering the dog curled up on the foot of his bed. Repede was named because he was a crazy-fast runner, and the spelling stuck long after Estelle had bitten her lip and politely pointed out that the French word was, in fact, '_rapide_.'

"It has more to do with witty comebacks," Judy was explaining. "But essentially, it's only after the fact that one usually thinks of the perfect response."

Yeah, if that wasn't the story of Yuri's life. He could banter with the best of them, but when it actually mattered…?

"At any rate, it seems Flynn has left it up to you. I suppose it all depends on whether you want to spend more time with him, knowing that he's not interested in anything other than friendship at the moment."

Yuri scrubbed a hand over his face. "It's just, I haven't really dealt with this kind of thing before. Obviously there are guys—gay or straight—that I just consider friends. I'm cool with that. But I _am_ attracted to Flynn, you know? Nerdy reading glasses and all. Heh. What's wrong with me…"

A soft giggle through the phone receiver. "I think there's your answer. If you want my advice…"

"You know I do."

"…it couldn't hurt to spend more time with Flynn. Clearly you had some kind of connection with him, and who knows? You could gain a good friend, or it might turn into something more when he _is _comfortable with it."

Well. It did seem pretty obvious when she put it that way. But…

"Okay. But what if…what if he's like, I dunno, saving himself?" A snort of surprised laughter from Judy. "Hey, it's possible. I mean. The way things are going, it could be legal everywhere for guys like us to get married by the time we're old enough to think about something like that. I mean, not _us_ us, not me and him…guh."

And now she was full-on cracking up. Yuri really needed to stop thinking out loud. He scowled at the phone, at the ceiling, tapping his foot on the comforter.

"I had no idea it was already so serious," Judy said, a bit breathless now.

"Very funny. You know what I mean. Usually that kind of thing is religious or something, but not always, right? He did say something about not doing casual stuff like that." Yuri sighed. This was so pointless. "Nevermind."

"So he's old-fashioned. I think it's sweet." There weren't any fabric sounds; apparently, Judy had stopped to focus on the conversation. "And anyway, when was your last serious relationship, if in fact you've even had one? It could do you some good to have to make a bit of an effort."

The phone-scowl turned into a glare. "Hey."

"Well? It's a fair question, I think. And you did say you wanted my advice."

"Yeah, but…" A hollow knock on his bedroom door snapped his eyes away from the ceiling. "Hang on, I'm being summoned."

Yuri slid off his bed and crossed to the door. Opened it a crack.

"Hey, sweetie." Lori smiled, drying her hands on a kitchen towel. "Dinner's almost ready. Oh, were you on the phone?" Her eyes dropped to the open cell that Yuri was holding to his chest.

"Yeah. It's just Judy. I'll hang up and be there in a sec."

She nodded, smile still in place. "Alright. Though I really wish you'd spend some time with girls your own age. Hmm. A funny thing to _want_ a teenaged boy to do, I suppose. But there are such nice girls at church, dear. They always ask about you."

Yuri nodded; vaguely, placating. One of these "nice girls" was the older sister of the girl that Ken and Lori's biological son—Karol, who Yuri called "kid," Kay or K-man because that trendy unisex name crap made him want to gag—had a huge crush on. Even if he _were_ straight, Yuri thought that would be a little too weird. Plus, Sodia was kind of creepily intense sometimes.

"Anyway, Karol has already set the table. Come on out when you're ready." A parting smile, and then the door closed once more.

Yuri brought the phone back up to his ear. "Hey, sorry about that. Have to go eat in a minute here."

"Mm, it's fine." Spoken around pins, of course. Another pause, taking them out. "Did I hear something about girls?"

"Heh. Yeah, they're trying to set me up again. I guess I should be flattered?" Yuri expelled a breath of amused frustration; the bed squeaked as he sat on the edge of it.

"I suppose." The words were slow and careful. "They mean well, I'm sure. Though I wish…you know."

"Yeah."

It wasn't fair to anyone, Yuri knew, least of all himself—jumping back into the closet whenever it was convenient. But it also wasn't worth the risk, not when he'd found a family willing to put up with him, a guy who liked to dress in black and hole up in his room, not a big fan of authority but not a criminal, either. He didn't cut himself or write angsty poetry; he wasn't completely antisocial, he just liked to do this own thing. It had been remarkably difficult to find people that wanted a kid like that. The last thing he was going to do right now, especially since he'd turned eighteen, was out himself. As nice as the couple was, Yuri was pretty sure they wouldn't be okay with it, and even if it was just tension rather than being kicked out…it really wasn't worth it. All of his friends knew. Wasn't like he'd lie if asked by anyone else. For now, that would have to be enough.

"Okay, I have to go. Later, Judy." The sound of scissors had resumed. "…What are you making, anyway?"

He could almost see her sly smile.

"That," she said, "is a surprise."

* * *

A/N: Note to self: If you're going to space out updates with a mostly-completed chapter waiting, _don't _keep reading said chapter while you edit until you're sick of it and convinced it's terrible. XD But good news, everyone! I may not have _all_ the arcs/themes plotted out, but the story ideas for this have been multiplying like the small furry animals that they're named after. Now, back to work on the next Glass Fortress chapter…


	3. Chapter 3

**3. **

Yuri peered into the glass display case, where colorful boxes of overpriced candy were arranged in neat rows.

"And, uh, a box of Reese's Pieces." He reached into his pocket to retrieve his wallet, not looking up at the employee as she calculated his total in a bored voice. There went that tip money.

With one arm wrapped around an overflowing tub of butter popcorn, the other balancing a cardboard tray of soft drinks, Yuri wondered why he was the one that always ended up standing in line for snacks. The girls had run off for that mysterious pre-movie bathroom pilgrimage, apparently a necessary part of the experience. They'd promised to save him a seat.

By the time he got into the theater it was dark, of course. Now for the fun part: waiting for his eyes to adjust so that he could find his friends among the softly sloping rows of seats. Yuri was only a few steps into the room, though, when he felt a tug on the hem of his shirt.

"Yuri," Estelle hissed. He stopped short, depositing the popcorn bucket in her lap before shuffling past her legs into his seat.

"Why are we so far back?" Yuri turned to Estelle with a mock-apologetic expression. "I know you want to make out with me, but it's not going to—"

"Yuri!" She batted at his arm, voice just loud enough for the people a couple of rows ahead of them to turn around and scowl in their general direction. Geez, it was just the previews. "Judy's right over there!"

Yuri kind of loved the fact that for Estelle, the main objection wasn't that he was into guys but that they would have a witness. He chuckled and slung an arm around the back of her chair—and the other around Judy's when she pouted at him. Of course, devious thing that she was, Judy used the opportunity to grab the box of Reese's Pieces from where it had perched on his armrest.

The only decent movie they could agree on had been suspenseful horror, which meant Estelle clinging to Yuri so much that she was practically in his lap, squealing with fright every few minutes and apologizing profusely immediately after. Yuri thought that maybe she should apologize to the popcorn, which really suffered the most in this situation. The clean-up crew was going to love them. As for Yuri, he couldn't bring himself to focus on the movie, not even when everyone was dead except for the endearingly-dorky protagonist and the large-breasted screaming girl. Oh, and their bland sidekick, but nobody cared about him. He was only there for unfunny one-liners, and probably to die next so the couple could get together. So stereotypical. It was never two guys at the end, or hell, two girls. Yuri was equal opportunity that way. He reached for a handful of popcorn, musing that America was totally ready for a gay zombie movie. Uh. Gay zombie-movie, he clarified in his mind, not gay-zombie. There was a big difference. He snorted, and Judy looked over at him with a look of mixed bemusement and concern.

The truth was, Yuri's mind had been skittering around on odd tangents all weekend. He didn't consider himself a particularly deep thinker, not one to sit and angst about something when he could fix it instead. But when he _did_ have something on his mind, it nudged at him until it couldn't be ignored. And that finally happened in the back of a dark movie theater, while the drooling undead charged at the screen.

Things he hadn't dealt with. Things he hadn't thought needed fixing. Memories floated up from where they had been long ignored, brought to the surface from that face-to-face encounter with his past on Thursday. Yuri tapped a thoughtless, uneven beat on the armrest, suddenly so over this movie. He pulled himself to his feet, glad that they didn't have rows of people behind them that would complain.

"I'll be back in a minute," he muttered, figuring they would make the reasonable assumption that he'd had too much soda. So it was with some surprise that he turned outside the room's double doors to find Judy not far behind him, arms crossed and head tilted slightly to the side.

"Estelle's going to get scared in there by herself," Yuri said. He looked back at the doors pointedly.

Judy smiled, clearly not buying the excuse. "She'll be fine. But the question is if _you_ are."

Damn. She was way too perceptive. Yuri shrugged and leaned his back against the wall.

"Just needed some air. Thought I'd walk around for a bit, come back after Mr. Third Wheel ate it."

This made Judy chuckle. "His days _are_ numbered, aren't they? Well, then. Perhaps I'll take a walk, myself."

That was Judy for you. She wouldn't look up at you all dewy-eyed and ask what was wrong. She'd just be there, somehow, as if it had been your idea in the first place. They walked together down the burgundy-carpeted hall without speaking, taking turns at random, until they ended up in the lobby again. The front entrance was mostly glass and through it Yuri could see the busy parking lot, where the sun was starting to go down.

"I thought I'd go visit my parents," he said, tone even and casual as he glanced over at Judy out of the corner of his eye. "Wanna come with?"

Of Yuri's two best friends, Estelle was the one that was sweet and naively compassionate, the kind of person who would adopt stray cats and give money to homeless people, never thinking they might feed an addiction rather than their stomachs. Judy, though, was the one who could see right through him. She would know that despite Yuri's neutral expression, he was saying _please come with me. I don't want to do this alone._

"Okay," she said after a moment, just as casually. If she was surprised by the request, Judy didn't show it. When they got back to their movie, Estelle scolded Yuri for leaving them during "the scariest part!" and showed him the straw to her soda, its top chewed into nervous oblivion. On the screen, the couple was back to back, facing down the zombie horde with pocket knives and the Power of Love. Their sidekick friend was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

They drove up early on Sunday, after the family had left for church. Yuri didn't think Ken and Lori would mind him visiting his birth parents' grave—in fact, they'd probably think it was a healthy sign—but he really preferred for that to be private. The last thing he wanted was to be grilled about it once he got home, even if it would probably be in a cautious and sensitive way.

The cemetery was on the outskirts of Yuri's old hometown, so it took about an hour to get there with traffic. Yuri cranked up the music, let it play just about the whole way there, pointing out this or that along the road but otherwise not talking much. Judy looked out the window, sometimes sang along, and even though it was kind of quiet Yuri was still glad that she was there. Glad that with her, he didn't have to say so.

They pulled into the drive, slammed car doors shut. It was a nice day, if a little chilly. Sun reflected off the wet grass, which sloped gradually in a hill dotted with statues and headstones. For some stupid reason, Yuri felt like it should have been raining, or that there should at least be some fog or something. It hadn't rained at the funeral, either. Another thing that the movies usually got wrong.

"Would you like me to wait here, or…"

"Nah, just walk with me for now." Yuri reached down and zipped up his black hoodie, stuffed his hands into the pockets as they started up the hill.

Honestly, it had been so long since he had been here—just twice since he'd had to stand there for an hour and a half in a miniature suit, and he'd still been a kid both times—that Yuri wasn't sure he remembered where his parents had been buried. There had been this one tree; its branches were gnarled and knotted like arthritic hands, and he remembered staring at it, not knowing what else to do. Of course, there were a lot of trees. Yuri wandered the rows, glancing casually at the names and dates carved into headstones as he did, making of game of sorts out of finding the oldest one.

He'd probably been at it for twenty minutes when it loomed in front of him, more skeletal than he'd remembered with its bare winter limbs. The image had been burned into his memory; what he was searching for wouldn't be far, now. Just two rows over, dark gray stone, not as weathered as some but not new, either. A small bunch of silk flowers, pink and white, sat propped against it. Yuri had no idea who put them there, or how long ago. Cursed himself mentally for the fact that he hadn't brought any of his own. He turned his head to look back at Judy, who had been following him pretty closely, but she had gone to look at the tree, hands clasped behind her back as if it was the most fascinating thing in a world. As if that was what she had planned to do all along. Yuri shook his head, smirking a little.

Not concerned about grass stains on his dark jeans, Yuri knelt near the stone. Read the names etched there that were still oddly surreal, brushed his fingers over them.

_Thomas Lowell_

_June 1__st__, 1962 - July 27__th__, 2000_

_Beloved son, husband, father_

_Nadia Volkova Lowell_

_December 15th, 1963 - July 27__th__, 2000_

_Treasured daughter, wife, mother_

Just like that. Their entire lives, summed up in four words. Yuri didn't really feel like philosophizing life's fragility and impermanence, though. He tried to remember their faces—not the ones from photographs, frozen and memorized. Faces in motion, laughing, scolding, alive. Flickering from moment to moment, unpredictable.

Yuri wasn't the kind of person to talk to graves. He knew they couldn't hear him; that it wouldn't make him feel better, just kind of foolish. Instead, he sat there, remembering things he hadn't allowed himself to dwell on in years. The way his mom would smooth hair back from his face, laugh at him when he told her to call him _Connor_. How his dad, bearded and serious, would order pizza when it was just the two of them, winking like it was a secret.

It had been a long time since then, years of memories piled on top of what now would never be. A different past and future, erased in an instant by a sleep-deprived long haul trucker. Yuri wasn't sure what to do with this. He missed them. He couldn't change it. Steadying a hand against the flat top of the stone, he stood and brushed the clinging bits of grass off his jeans.

Maybe he wouldn't wait so long before visiting again, next time.

Yuri went to find Judy, who wasn't at the tree anymore. While he made he way back down the rows, a crouched figure caught his attention. Yuri stopped walking a few paces away, hand set on his hip, suddenly curious.

He _knew_ that guy. He was kind of hard to miss, with brilliant white-blond hair that was even longer than Yuri's own, falling in waves down past his waist. Yuri didn't actually know his name, but had seen him on campus countless times; he was kind of infamous, though no one could say whether he actually attended classes there. Normally he was just known as "that weird guy who plays with squirrels." Any given day one could find him under a shady tree, a plastic bag filled with some kind of seeds or something on the grass beside him, enticing the squirrels that inhabited the quad to creep ever closer. One girl that had been in Yuri's astronomy class last semester _swore_ that she saw one of them climb up onto the guy's shoulder. Most people assumed that he wasn't quite right in the head.

Yuri had seen him at other places on campus—thought he might even live in the same dorm building—but never out in the "real world." Certainly not this far from the city. He realized, then, that the guy was talking. His voice was startlingly deep and resonant, dropped to almost a whisper.

"You should still be at my side, Elucifer. Why must humanity be so cruel?"

Okay, yeah. Weird, for sure. E-lu-_what_? Did Yuri hear that right? Now intrigued, he didn't even worry about the fact that he was probably intruding on a very private moment. That is, until a bloodshot pair of eyes swept over to lock with his. He rose to his feet fluidly and, before Yuri could do or say anything, strode away with his long coat flapping behind him.

Curiosity got the better of Yuri, once he had recovered from that oddly charged moment. He walked over until he stood where the squirrel-guy had been. A fresh bundle of curling fern fronds and orange lilies had been left against the stone.

_Eliot Shaw_

_October 4__th__, 1989 - October 4__th__, 2008_

Yuri sure if what he found there had him more disappointed (the guy wasn't _actually_ named after the devil) or intrigued (he died extremely young, and on his birthday. Man, that would suck.) That impulse of curiosity now satisfied, the information was filed away as something that didn't mean anything to him personally, but was kind of interesting. Yuri turned and walked away.

He found Judy back at the car—"I got cold," she said, smiling. Yuri refrained from pointing out that her thin V-neck sweater wasn't exactly built for warmth, that in fact exposing more skin was counterproductive to that kind of thing. Instead, he put the key in the ignition, felt it rumble to life, let the music wash over them both.

* * *

_To: Yuri Lowell (yclowell)_

_Sent: Mon 3/15/10 9:47 AM_

_From: Scott Moore (sdmoore)_

_Hey Yuri,_

_This is your RA. I thought you should know that your roommate came by earlier this morning and requested a room change. That request was denied. I'm not going to make any assumptions_—_I've done this long enough to know that there's always two sides of a story. The bottom line, though, is that rooms are only changed mid-semester in the case of an emergency, and his claim did not constitute one. The university doesn't discriminate based on age, gender, race, social status, or sexual orientation. Whether his concerns were founded in truth or not, the fact is that without proof of harassment or some other legitimate problem, he's not getting special treatment._

_I realize, though, that the two of you might still be in an awkward situation. He made some inflammatory comments that I won't repeat, but if he causes you any problems, don't hesitate to contact me or another RA about it. Fortunately we've only got a couple of months left in the semester, and new room assignments can be made for next year. Registration is coming up soon, so make sure you don't miss the deadline._

_I don't think I've really gotten a chance to talk to you since the beginning of the year. If you have any questions or just need someone to talk to for whatever reason, my door is always open. Drop on by anytime, man; that's what I'm here for. _

_Scott Moore, Resident Assistant, Whitehorse Hall (room 108)_

Yuri leaned back in his desk chair, torn between being darkly amused and pissed off. It wasn't like it surprised him. He'd actually kind of wondered if this would happen, but that didn't make him any less disgusted with the request. Closing out of the e-mail, he put Scott on his mental list of People That Don't Suck, even if chances were slim to none that he was going to go down to his dorm room for a heart-to-heart any time soon.

On Mondays, Yuri had the same classes as he'd had on Friday—English and Algebra—with one significant difference. Monday and Wednesday, he also had Econ. (Yuri wasn't sure if it would be of any help in whatever major he decided on, but it filled a core requirement and satisfied his number one rule: it didn't start before 9:30.) He expected dry explanations of supply-and-demand and long, boring textbook assignments. What he got was very different.

"And here we have an example of the kind of person who would be missing out on potential profit opportunities if this were a business," Dr. Kaufman was saying as Yuri slipped into the room and down into a chair ten minutes late. She nodded to him, and the playful glint in her eyes behind glasses was not unkind. Behind her, keywords and ideas were scrawled across the whiteboard in an elegant but not-entirely-legible script.

Kaufman's Economics class was one of the very few that Yuri wouldn't sit huddled in the back, taking notes unnoticed and unheard. She encouraged participation, made the principles relevant and (almost) fun. Plus she had a streak of sass a mile wide and a sharp sense of style that some people might put into the "sexy librarian" category. (This morning, that thought took Yuri's mind somewhere else entirely. The glasses didn't help.) At any rate, he could understand why a lot of the guys in the class seemed to have a crush on her.

"Lowell, we're on page 142. In fact, why don't you read the first paragraph of that page. Under the 'diminishing marginal utility' header."

At Yuri's sour look, her smile was positively wicked. The woman knew how much he hated to read out loud. But it wasn't like he didn't have fair warning. It was in her syllabus, in fact: show up late without a serious excuse and leave your dignity at the door. Worded more subtly to make it past the administration, of course. Weirdly, it made Yuri respect her more than it annoyed him. She was also one of those professors who would answer your cell if it rang in class. This had only needed to happen once. Yet even with all these things _and_ an 8-page end-of-semester paper, only a couple of people had dropped the course.

"The law of diminishing…" Yuri started, low and fairly monotone.

"Barnes, can you hear him back there?" Kaufman leaned casually against the podium, looked out over the classroom to a guy seated in the back who called back with a quick 'nope.' Yuri rolled his eyes.

"The law of diminishing marginal utility," he said, louder now, "states that as a person increases consumption of a product, the marginal utility gained from consuming additional units of the product will decline."

Yeah, that wasn't so bad. Kaufman nodded curtly, her gaze sweeping out over the room of students.

"Excellent. I'm sure you've all heard that one can't have too much of a good thing. That's not true in life and certainly not true in business. Can anyone think of some examples of how this might be true?"

Voices chimed in immediately, almost talking on top of each other. Yuri smirked down at his textbook. Only in Kaufman's class.

* * *

When Yuri practically threw himself down a stairwell to avoid a guy who vaguely looked like Flynn, he started to think that maybe he was becoming a bit too paranoid. Hell, he'd hardly thought about the guy over the weekend, a little too busy poking and prodding at the memories of his dead parents and brushing off the dust. But now that Yuri was back on campus, he found himself expecting to run into Flynn at any moment. And he really wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Really, in most other cases, Flynn himself wouldn't have rated all that high on Yuri's list of things to worry about. So, okay, he was hot in his nerdy way, and they'd made out. Whatever. But there was something Yuri couldn't put his finger on, even as he shrugged that off—maybe a bit of wounded pride in the way he'd been so suddenly and thoroughly walked away from, with that sad little smile and blue eyes staring him down. He didn't get it, was all. Why it was a big deal, what made this kind of quiet yet oddly intense law student _different_.

Yuri could have called him, of course. Had even noticed his number a few times, right under Estelle's, and thought briefly about doing it. He wasn't going to sit there agonizing over it, though, and hadn't really decided what to say in the first place. Any offer to hang out at this point seemed like it would be kind of opportunistic, so it was probably better to just lay off for now.

But that didn't stop his mind from deciding that every shaggy-blond, relatively tall male on campus was Flynn. And there were more of them, it turned out, than you'd think. Eventually, he managed to convince his brain that this was stupid, and looked pretty much straight ahead as he walked back to his dorm from the last class of the day. Early afternoon. Plenty of time to do whatever he wanted: sleep, waste time on the internet…and read the assignment for tomorrow's History class, only when it became absolutely necessary.

He was almost back to his dorm hall, wondering idly if Eric would be there and if he'd clear out of the room upon his arrival, when that thought seemed to summon the horde. You know, so to speak—if a horde could be a ring of five muscular, freakishly tall upperclassmen, zeroing in on Yuri as he crossed the parking lot. Oh, yeah. This could only lead to bad places.

The words were first, shouted across the short distance between them, nothing original, nothing he hadn't heard before. Yuri fixed his eyes up ahead, kept walking, hoping they were the kind of idiots that would follow him for a minute spewing hateful garbage before slinking off like the cowards they really were. Of course, minds full of testosterone and not much else, they had to surround him. A few passersby shot nervous glances over at them, ducked their heads down and hurried on their way. That was the way the world worked. People could get stabbed in a subway car and everyone would be too scared to get involved. One crazy person against five, twenty, a hundred. Didn't matter.

They were loosely arranged around him, now. Yuri adjusted his bag on his shoulder, stared them down, wondering what they were planning to do. Beat him up, in broad daylight? Yeah, right. No way they were risking their precious little sports scholarships on a punk like him. Of course, that was assuming they had two brain cells to rub together to remember that.

Sure enough, one of them got stupid-brave enough to shove his shoulder, sending him staggering off to the right a little.

"People like you make me sick," he growled.

Right back at you, moron. Yuri glowered at the jock—up at him, really—and brushed off his shoulder like he'd been touched by something unclean.

"Whatever. You done?"

Which was, in retrospect, kind of a stupid thing to say in that situation. Next thing Yuri knew, he had been pushed again, more roughly, and his knees and palms hit asphalt. They were, at least, playing it kind of lightweight—pushing someone around a bit was far less incriminating than a full-on beat down. But that didn't stop them from directing a stream of abuse in Yuri's direction, making him grit his teeth despite how old and tired it all was. He was a few unimaginative insults away from getting up and starting this fight for real, despite the likely result for him being messy and painful.

Abruptly, there was a shout of surprise behind him that turned to pain, one of the players sinking to the ground in the corner of Yuri's vision, grasping his shin. The others backed off, not even stopping to help their teammate, until he too struggled to his feet and limped away.

"That's a relief," said a voice above him. "Apparently they don't know that there's no way I could have taken them all."

Still braced against the rough black tar of the parking lot, Yuri started laughing, a kind of manic reaction that was more wheezing than anything. When did his life become some kind of ridiculous gay action-hero romantic comedy? (Another as-yet unexplored cinematic genre, that.) He rocked back until he was sitting on his knees and dusted off his hands. They were only lightly scraped. Yuri stared at them as he spoke.

"You kept up with the karate, I take it." Dared a glance up at Flynn, who was smiling a little.

"Among other things. I'm, ah, a second degree black belt in that discipline, but I've dabbled…" He ran a hand along the back of his neck. Embarrassed, or something. Which was…cute? Ugh. Yuri barely resisted facepalming, if only because they stung like hell at the moment.

"Well, thanks, man. I owe you one." Yuri started to push up onto his feet, blinked when he realized that Flynn had extended a hand to pull him up. He backed off a little once they were both standing, though.

"Don't mention it. I…well, a lot of people in my dorm hall know that I attend martial arts classes on campus. I guess one of them noticed what was going on, and next thing I know someone's pounding on my door…" Flynn spread his hands, shrugging, that same embarrassed smile pulling up one corner of his mouth.

Right. There was the flaw in Yuri's assessment of the world. When people cowered too much to take action themselves, they called the people that they knew _would._ The police. Security. Armed forces. Batman, or something. And that's where the association started to go a bit weird. Flynn was definitely _not_ Batman; if he was going to be a big-shot lawyer, that was pretty much the opposite of someone he should emulate. No matter how awesome the masked vigilante might be. Yuri cleared his throat.

"Anyway, uh." Thoughts flashed into his mind and were dismissed: _How was your weekend? _Lame. _Sorry I didn't call you. _Too sappy. _Want to go get some coffee? _That's a pick-up line, Yuri. "Glad to see one of us stuck with it. Could've used some of those moves a minute ago."

Well, as these things went, it was better than "sure," anyway. Flynn was looking at him thoughtfully. As if on the verge of asking him what had happened, although Yuri really hoped he didn't. "I was too busy being a complete terror to the first few families that tried to take care of me" was kind of a conversation killer.

"You should join us, then," Flynn said brightly, as if that sentence on its own made perfect sense. "The kickboxing classes, I mean. We meet on Thursday mornings, at nine. It's not exactly the same thing, but you could still learn a few good ways to defend yourself. At the very least, how to _look_ intimidating." He smirked.

One part of Yuri's mind locked in on the "at nine" detail and immediately buzzed _no, no, no_. He'd made a rule for himself and he wasn't going to cave on it in his second semester, dammit. But there was this other, rebellious part of his mind, whispering _do it_ in his ear. He wasn't sure he liked that part.

"Maybe," Yuri found himself saying. And _meaning_, ridiculously enough. He shouldered his bag, not bothering to investigate too deeply into his sudden interest in something he'd skimmed over in the course catalog before. "Just send me a text with the when and where. I'll forget, otherwise."

"Okay," said Flynn. "Will do. Well, I have to get back to…you know, studying…"

Knowing Flynn, that probably wasn't an excuse. At least he hadn't run out here in his glasses. Yeah, like that'd be a bad thing. Yuri rolled his eyes at himself internally.

"Yeah. Later, man."

And that was it. No awkward "this is where we stand now" conversation; not exactly picking up where they left off, but close enough. It was that easy. Yuri stepped up onto the sidewalk to continue toward his dorm room, laughing at himself. His phone started vibrating ten minutes later, and he grabbed it off the bedside table before it fell.

_From: Flynn (2:28 P.M.) _

_Hey, the kickboxing class meets at 9 a.m. Thursday in the Heracles Fitness Center. Room 4. The teacher will let new people join even though it's mid-semester. Hope to see you there!_

Proper punctuation and capitalization in a text message. Dork. But for some reason, Yuri could only shake his head and smile.

* * *

A/N: …I tried to give this story chapter titles, but it stressed me out too much to go back and find ones that fit the previous two. This did not bode well for the future. Sorry if that bothers anyone; it's hard enough to think of single-word titles that sum up entire Glass Fortress chapters. Ha, I'm picky. Anyway, I _did_ go back and change a line in chapter one that had been bugging me for a while; I felt like it was too stereotype-y even though it was based on personal, real-life observations of people of whom I'm very fond. But anyway. It's changed now. (If anyone cares to go back and look, it's right after Yuri noticing Flynn's designer jeans.) Hope everyone enjoys the new chapter!

(Anyone who has been in college and doubts Yuri being able to join the class: I know. XD Just go with me on this. I promise it makes sense.)


	4. Chapter 4

**4.**

The memories, once stirred, rose one by one like bubbles bursting. A muggy day, too hot for wearing karate gi, the kind of heat that made shorts stick to the back of your legs. The white uniforms and equally white belts had been pushed aside somewhere, where two boys sat on the front steps of the building with popsicles that their teacher (there was another word for it, but Yuri couldn't remember anymore) had handed out after class that afternoon.

Yuri would have definitely picked grape given the choice, so that was the flavor in his memory. It didn't really matter if that was true. Flynn had blue-raspberry or something—who decided that could be a flavor, anyway?—so when they stuck their tongues out to compare, his was a neon blue definitely not found anywhere in nature. Yuri remembered this because dusky shadows had flickered across his face, and in that moment Yuri thought that the blond boy was kind of beautiful. Well, okay. Maybe he didn't think that word _exactly._ He was, after all, just a kid, and was still supposed to think that even girls were icky. It was more of an impression, like a moment more perfect than life usually is.

Yuri didn't think he felt self-conscious about this. Too young to think that it might be weird or wrong to feel this way about a boy, he just knew that he liked sitting there with Flynn, snickering over popsicle-stick jokes that really were pretty lame, when you thought about it.

Lying awake in his dorm room, Yuri remembered these things. It was kind of amazing what the mind could repress out of self-preservation, since this seemed like it was kind of significant. And he wasn't sure how he felt about that. Not at all.

* * *

By Tuesday night, Eric had stopped dorm-hopping long enough to spend a night in their room, though he crept in late enough that Yuri had already been asleep. When he rolled over the next morning and blinked blearily at Eric's side of the room, Yuri almost choked from laughing so hard.

The idiot had tied a pair of shoelaces together from the leg of his desk to the bed, and stacks of books and other miscellaneous items created a barricade that he would have had to climb over to get out of the room. When Yuri had recovered, he walked over to read the note that had been taped up where their desks came together. Not the best idea—it was so passive-aggressive and ridiculous that he only ended up laughing again. He took a picture with his phone's camera before peeling it off and tossing it into the nearest trash can.

_Don't touch my stuff, there are 2 sides of the room for a reason and if you do you'll regret it,_ huh? The _THANKS_ at the end was a nice touch. Yuri was tempted to screw with him just because, but the possibility of that becoming "proof" that he was harassing the guy wasn't worth it, as fun as it could be. Seriously, though, did Eric really plan to keep this paranoia up for two months? Yuri hadn't done anything to bother him for a semester and a half, and it wasn't like that would suddenly change. Geez.

It was kind of a crap day. For one thing, it was gray and drizzly outside, and for all that Yuri's dark-clothing dominant wardrobe might imply otherwise, he kind of liked the sun, thanks. When he got to class, the first thing he noticed was the taped-up paper (a theme of his morning) that said Dr. Kaufman's class was canceled but actually _meant _"haha, you got up way earlier than you needed to for no reason, loser." This gave him an hour to kill before English, which was good because he hadn't actually read the assignment yet.

He staked out a spot on a low concrete wall that bordered the quad, leaning his back against a pillar and resting the book on his knees. The weird squirrel guy with the dead-someone was under his usual tree not too far away, but his eyes slid over Yuri without seeming to recognize or acknowledge him. Yuri tried to concentrate on the book, which was a difficult task in the first place with the way it droned on, but kept getting distracted by the mass of squirrels that seemed to come out of nowhere to eat from the guy's hand. Now that Yuri knew that he was capable of refined, coherent speech, it seemed even weirder.

By the time that Yuri had skimmed enough of his book to be fairly sure he could spout some vague nonsense about it if asked, a stray cat and a rabbit had showed up, and it was all so very Disney. He stared and shook his head while putting the book away. If the guy was with it enough to _know_ he looked like a freak, Yuri had to at least give him props for being that ballsy.

In English, the professor passed out quizzes on their _actual_ reading assignment, not the one for the comparative essays. Yuri had skimmed that, too, but ended up guessing on about a third of the questions. The rest of class—and most of Algebra—was spent lazily taking notes and watching out the window as the rain slowly turned the sidewalks dark gray.

The day continued to be soul-suckingly awful at work, where a customer chewed him out for giving them exactly what they had ordered and tips were dismal at best. After he got back to the dorms, Yuri was more than ready to change out of damp clothes and collapse onto his bed. There was a new note on the desk. He didn't bother reading it.

Tomorrow would be History again, and—

Wait. Thursday. Tomorrow was Thursday. Yuri groaned, fumbling for his phone and pulling up the text. He hadn't exactly _promised_ he would be there, but for some reason the thought of Flynn waiting for him to show… Yuri rolled his eyes at himself as he set his alarm for 8:30. Then he flopped back down onto his pillow, asleep before he could change his mind.

* * *

Considering the fact that he hadn't been with the class from the beginning, Yuri figured he probably shouldn't be late the first time. He dug through his closet and pulled out a T-shirt and loose-fitting athletic pants (rarely worn, other than just to lounge around in). Yuri remembered that much about martial arts, anyway—breathability was key. He put his hair back as he was heading out the door, opting to go without his book bag, since there was enough time between now and his class to come back for it.

The fitness center was at the far end of campus, and Yuri hadn't been in the building since the prospective students tour before he had actually enrolled. It was pretty new, with a big pool and lots of exercise equipment, none of which were of much interest to him. Past the main gym, a hallway branched off into individual rooms marked with numbers.

The door to Room 4 was propped open, and through it Yuri could see groups of students standing around and chatting. He was starting to have second thoughts about this whole thing, had half-turned back toward the hall when someone appeared in front of him, slinging an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into the room.

"You're not gonna bail on us, are ya? I was told someone with your description might be coming. Wouldn't want to disappoint our star student."

The man, who was dressed in an eye-wrenching yellow shirt and had fuzzy brown hair tied back into a ponytail, nodded toward a circle of students where Flynn was barely visible in the center. Two of them were girls—in fact, they seemed to be the only female students in the entire class—and they giggled at something that he said. Yuri hoped they realized that they weren't exactly his type.

"Hey, Flyyynn," said the man, sing-song. Everyone turned their heads, and Yuri did his best to look nonchalant. He shrugged the guy off and waited for him to walk away.

"Ah, Yuri. You made it." Flynn looked him over briefly, smiling. At Yuri's arrival, the rest of the group made the apparently unanimous decision to dispel, going off to chat among themselves or do warm-up stretches. Yuri didn't miss the sour look that one of the girls shot at him as she went. Yep, _deep_ in denial.

"Yeah." Yuri shrugged. "So, that's the instructor? Seems kind of…"

"The name's Raven," said a voice right behind him. Yuri flinched; he'd been _sure_ that he had gone away. When he turned around, the guy was grinning at him with his hand extended to be shook. Yuri gripped it warily.

"Raven, huh. Like the bird?"

"That's right." His ponytail bobbed as he nodded.

"Uh _huh_."

Yuri looked over at Flynn out of the corner of his eye, raised an eyebrow. The man went on, oblivious.

"Pleased to meet ya. Any friend of Flynn's, blah, blah, you know. Well, class is about to start, so I guess that means it's time for me to be all responsible." He slouched and hung his head, sighing. "I'll let you young folk catch up."

This Raven guy couldn't be older than thirty or so, but whatever. Yuri crossed his arms and turned to face Flynn.

"…is he high?"

Flynn barked a laugh and quickly shook his head. "No, just eccentric. You get used to him after a while. Raven's not really like other instructors. That's why he lets people join his class at any time; he doesn't really care about the university's rules and protocol."

That made two of them, then. But still, the guy was pretty bizarre. He had turned on some music, a Caribbean reggae-ish vibe that made Yuri think that Flynn's assessment might be a bit naïve. Everyone began moving up toward the floor, where thick blue mats had been laid out, so Yuri followed suit.

Raven got them started on some sets of warm-up exercises while he called roll—Yuri thought that it was probably a good thing he couldn't see Flynn from his position, considering all the toe-touching and twisting going on. He only half-listened, knowing that his name wouldn't even be on it yet.

"—Sanders."

"Here."

"Flynn Scifo."

"Present."

Yuri paused half-way through reaching for his left foot, seated with legs spread apart. It wasn't like he hadn't known that Flynn would have a last name, too, but he hadn't really thought about asking for it or anything. Yuri barely remembered the guy had been in his karate class, so that was probably the last detail he'd hang on to for all these years. But it filled things out, somehow, like another puzzle piece clicking into place.

He barely resisted looking back at Flynn, instead waiting for the last set to be finished and the music turned off. Raven quickly went through some things that a lot of them had apparently been working on for the past few weeks—Yuri was pretty lost, of course—and let them choose partners to practice the moves. Despite how obviously in demand Flynn was, he gravitated to Yuri's side right away. But that kind of made sense, considering that Yuri was the new guy in this situation.

They were throwing punches and kicks at a pad that had straps attached to the underside for the person holding it to put their arms through, taking turns. Flynn went first and Yuri did his best to watch what he was doing, but when he tried it Flynn immediately shook his head and set the pad down. He grabbed Yuri's hand.

"Here. You're punching with this part," he said, indicating a straight-on fist. "If you do that, you're more likely to break your hand than do any damage in a self-defense situation. You need to change the angle and strike with _this_ part."

Flynn's fingers brushed over Yuri's knuckles and then, as if abruptly aware of how close together they were standing, he backed off and crossed his arms.

"Try again."

After Flynn picked up the pad, Yuri adapted his style and found that there was a lot more power and fluidity behind it. Maybe the class wasn't such a bad idea after all. He got into a rhythm; they didn't talk for a while.

"So," he finally said. "Scifo, huh?"

Flynn made a low 'oof' sound when he let the pad fall too close to his stomach during a punch directed there. An expression flickered across his face that Yuri couldn't quite interpret. "Yeah. I guess, ah, I thought you knew that?"

Yuri let his arm fall and shrugged loosely. "Hey, it's been a while. I mean, it's not like I expect you to remember mine."

Flynn said nothing, though the beginnings of a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. Wait, hadn't he said something like 'that wasn't his name' back when they first reconnected? Yuri had assumed he had just meant the first name. Man, how much did _he_ remember about that time? He decided to let the subject drop for now.

"Okay, your turn again. Wanna try some of those kicks?"

* * *

Though he was pretty skinny, Yuri's general lack of defined muscle wasn't the only clue that he might be a little out of shape. By the end of class, he was breathing heavily and his heart felt like it was about to explode. He slumped down onto the edge of the mats while he pulled his shoes on, hoping that things would go back to normal levels soon. Ugh, and he still had a _regular_ class to attend today.

Yuri must have groaned aloud, because Flynn crouched beside him, eyes bright and amused.

"Are you worn out?" He laughed when Yuri glared at him, half-hearted. "Okay, then. I was going to ask if you wanted to race back to the dorms, but if you're too tired…"

Man, he hadn't raced anyone since he was like, twelve. But for some reason, Flynn had awakened that instinct of a challenge.

"Oh, you are _on_." Yuri grinned as he stood up. As Flynn smiled back and opened his mouth to reply, Yuri darted off toward the door. He laughed at the expected accusations of cheating yelped behind him, skidding around corners and nearly colliding with startled students as he made his way out of the fitness center.

Yuri was halfway across the quad when Flynn started overtaking him, not surprising considering the way that his lungs and muscles complained every time his shoes hit the pavement.

"Ugh, you bastard," Yuri panted as Flynn came up alongside him. "Let me guess—you're the best at everything you try."

"Just about." Flynn sounded a little out of breath, too, at least. He laughed and pulled ahead. After that, Yuri didn't have any hope of catching up with him, but he wasn't going to give up, either.

Flynn was waiting at the top of a grassy slope between the parking lots and the dorm buildings. When Yuri got there, he didn't say anything—just slumped down and closed his eyes. The grass was kind of prickly, but had already dried from yesterday's rain.

"You okay?"

Yuri could hear the smirk in Flynn's voice, even if he couldn't see it. He was taking in quick gulps of air, waiting for the frantic rhythm of his heart to slow.

"Bite me," he said between breaths.

"You had a head start," Flynn pointed out. "Of course, I run just about every—woah!"

The startled shout was the result of Yuri reaching up and yanking on Flynn's arm, throwing him off balance and onto the grass beside him. Flynn shot him an affronted look, but didn't stand back up.

"Sorry, you were saying?" Yuri grinned as Flynn shoved at his shoulder. It was a warmer day than they had had in a while, and Yuri still had about half an hour before he needed to head to class. Yeah, he didn't mind staying right here for the moment. He let his eyes slip closed, noting with some amusement that Flynn's shoe was resting on his leg from where he had fallen, and he hadn't really moved it. If Yuri rolled over right now, he could probably…

Oh, right. His kissing privileges had been revoked indefinitely. Ugh, this was so unfair. Couldn't they become friends _at the same time?_ Yuri was opening his mouth to complain when Flynn leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. A moment later, a group of students jogged by. Yuri glanced over at Flynn, who was watching them until they disappeared around a corner. He looked…upset?

"Do you know those guys?"

Flynn frowned. "Not personally. They're ROTC." He ran his hand over the top of his head, expelled a breath.

"Okay…"

"It's nothing, just…" Flynn bit his lip and shook his head once. Laughed, kind of bitterly. "My dream when I was little was to join the Army. It seemed like just about the noblest thing a person could do. It was only when I got older that I realized that might not work out so well, you know? For me."

Oh.

"…yeah." Yuri leaned up on his elbows. He wasn't really sure what to say, so he waited to see if Flynn wanted to keep talking.

"I mean, I'm not stupid, Yuri. I know I'm pretty obvious." Flynn had hunched down so that his chin was resting atop his folded arms. "And hiding it is ridiculous, anyway. Maybe if it was repealed while I'm still young enough, but that's not going to change the atmosphere… Mm. Sorry. It's just, you know. Frustrating."

"Hey, it's fine. I know what you mean. Well, I've never wanted to join up myself… I don't think I'd take the whole 'sir, yes, sir' thing too well…but I get it."

Flynn tilted his head to look over and smiled weakly.

"Anyway," he said. "At least in law it doesn't matter, right?"

There was something kind of sad in the way that he said it that made Yuri want to lay a smack-down on everyone in the world that made that necessary. Okay, when did he get so cheesy and protective about this guy, anyway? Probably just empathy, though.

"Exactly, man. You're going to be a kick-ass lawyer."

Flynn laughed, so apparently that had been the right thing to say. Yuri stood up and stretched a little. "Guess I'd better go. If I hurry, maybe I'll even have time to shower before class."

"I'm sure your classmates would thank you for that," Flynn teased.

"Ohh, I see. Are you saying I smell bad?"

"Maybe." Flynn raised his eyebrows, as if to say _what are you going to do about it?_

Yuri chuckled. "Flynn, Flynn. You know what they say about playing with fire."

"Oh, I'm _so_ scared. Really." Flynn was standing at this point as well, eyes bright with amusement. "Anyway, I have class soon, too. But I'm glad you showed up this morning."

"Yeah. It was fun." Yuri placed a hand on his hip. "So, uh."

He could say 'see you next week,' but that implied they had no reason to see each other in between that time. But he also had no idea if Flynn still wanted to keep his distance otherwise.

"It was," Flynn agreed. "Listen, um. If you want to hang out or something, just give me a call. Or…text. Whichever. I have a paper due Friday, but this weekend…well, just let me know."

Okay, a little awkward. Seemed like they both were on uncertain ground.

"Yeah, I might do that," said Yuri, putting as much confidence behind his words as he could. "See you later."

Yuri did, in fact, have time for a quick shower. He smirked to himself as he scrubbed away the grass and sweat—there had been an awful lot of flirting going on, for someone that just wanted to be friends with him.

* * *

Sometimes, Yuri wondered if history teachers had specific classes training them to drone on like that. _Uninteresting Anecdotes 101: History for Boring People_. After the unusual amount of exertion in the morning, he was sleepy enough to nod off a couple of times—luckily, his professor was too occupied with the numerous weaknesses of the Ottoman Empire to notice. Besides, Yuri sat _way_ in the back for this one.

At least he had the afternoon off of work. Money was good, but the coffee shop was pretty much the last place he wanted to be right now. He followed the tail end of the stream of students out the door of the amphitheater, twisting his arm around experimentally. Weirdly, it was kind of a _good_ ache. He vaguely remembered that from when he was a kid—getting knocked down and bruised, but kind of reveling in it. Like he felt more alive, somehow. Of course, you bounced back a lot faster when you were nine. Yuri was pretty sure he'd be feeling it full-force in the morning.

He was just finishing his typical post-History class routine of grabbing a sandwich from the food court when his phone rang. A single letter—K—appeared on the front before he flipped it open with his free hand. Speaking of nine-year-olds…

"K-man, hey." Karol had one of those phones that parents could lock so that only certain numbers could be dialed. He wasn't supposed to have it turned on during school hours, though. "It's not even one o'clock yet, aren't you still in school?"

"Y-Yuri. I'm…I'm at the school, but…"

Yuri frowned, shifting the phone and listening more intently. "Is everything okay?" The kid sounded really upset.

"N-no. You have to come pick me up, Yuri. Mom and Dad are, um, they're at work."

"Uh, okay. Can you tell me what happened?"

There was a sharp intake of air through the line. "Okay. The teachers had us go outside and everybody thought it was a drill except it wasn't, and then there was lots of smoke and people started coughing and, and there's this 6th grader, maybe 5th, who I think was mad about something, but I'm not really sure if it was on purpose…"

"Woah, woah. Slow down. I'm not following."

"S-sorry." Another deep breath. "My school's on fire."

Yuri pulled the phone away from his ear for a second, blinked at it. Ho-ly crap.

"Kid, I'm on my way."

* * *

A/N: I had originally planned for there to be more Raven in this chapter, but this is how it worked out. But don't worry, he'll be back! Hopefully this chapter also appeases those worried about the romantic element of the story, considering the hesitance Flynn demonstrated in the second chapter. (I don't know if ROTC is common knowledge for people from other countries or not, but just in case: it's a college program primarily in the United States where students can get scholarships and train to become officers in exchange for military service commitments.)


	5. Chapter 5

**5.**

On the way to Karol's elementary school, Yuri had to pull over twice for emergency vehicles, thundering past him with sirens screaming. He grit his teeth and swung back out into the road as soon as they had passed, with barely a glance back for oncoming traffic. On the seat beside him, Yuri's cell phone beeped. He'd check it later. Right now all of his focus was on the rising smoke in the distance, gray and ugly against the cloudless sky.

If there was anything good to be said about the situation, it wasn't like the _entire_ school was on fire. When Yuri pulled into the parking lot, he could see flames on one side of the building, flickering in and out of view at the windows. The smoke was billowing up from that side, mixed with condensation from the fire-hoses that were directed at the school.

Outside was chaotic, with firemen and EMTs rushing around, police officers trying to control frantic family members and curious passersby alike. Yuri gathered from the way they kept repeating the same line that—how about that—those drills you were always forced to do every few months in school were actually good for something. The kids were in a nearby soccer field, lined up by grade and classroom, though some of them had been pulled aside to be checked out for smoke inhalation.

A harried-looking woman with a clipboard approached. "Excuse me, are you here to pick up someone?"

"Yeah. Karol Capel; he's in fourth grade. I'm, uh, his brother. Yuri Lowell?"

The woman touched a finger to the tip of her tongue and thumbed through the pages. "Ah, yes. There you are. I'll have someone bring him over."

Yuri nodded and started to thank her, but she had already walked away, taking quick strides in high heels. He didn't envy her right now. No one that worked there, really. Getting things back to normal was going to be an absolute nightmare. He sat on the curb to wait, massaging sore upper arms made worse by tensing against the steering wheel on the way over.

"Yuri?" He looked up at a female voice calling his name nearby. Oh, great. "I haven't seen you in _ages_. You really should come to church more often; we have so many good programs for college students. I'm sure Sodia would love to see you there."

Yeah, Yuri was sure she would. He suppressed a snort, and stood up after a moment when he realized it would probably seem rude not to. The woman standing before him—Jane, or Jan or something—was beaming a way that was entirely too cheerful for their current situation. But she was kind of always like that. Fortunately, he was saved from any further grilling.

"Oh, there you are, sweetie." Jane/Jan pulled a girl with a side-ponytail (Yuri had thought those had gone out of fashion in the 80's or something, but guessed that everything came back around eventually) into her arms, then held her out to look her over. "Are you alright? I was so worried."

"I'm fine, Mom." Nan made a face, clearly uncomfortable with the showering of concern. "It was just some stupid sixth grader."

Nan didn't elaborate, but at that point her mother didn't seem to care. She kissed the girl's forehead, ignoring the way she protested, until she was distracted by another woman's arrival in the parking lot. They walked off to chat animatedly, leaving Nan to sit on the corner of the sidewalk curb, staring into space with her arms loosely clasped around her knees.

More kids left with parents and older siblings, until Yuri was about to go find someone and ask what was taking them so long. Of course, right about then was the point that a young woman walked up with Karol not far behind her. The kid was putting on a brave front, but Yuri knew him well enough to see the fear and uncertainty behind the lifted chin and clenched fists.

"Hey," he said. Karol looked up at him. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Karol swallowed, let out a breath. "…Do you think we'll have school tomorrow?"

"I dunno. That depends, I guess. But let's not worry about that yet, okay?" Yuri bumped the kid's shoulder. "Look who's over there."

Karol's brown eyes flicked in the direction that Yuri indicated, widened a fraction. "Nan? Oh, man…"

"You should go talk to her. She's probably pretty freaked out." Yuri refrained from adding the 'too' to that statement.

"Do…do you really think so?" Karol practically squeaked. "But I don't know what to say to her."

Yuri laughed. "Just ask how she is. Should be pretty natural from there. Trust me, it's perfect." He gave Karol a gentle push of encouragement to go with the words, and the kid looked back uncertainly. Ah, grade school, when everything felt so complicated, but actually wasn't at all.

Leaving the kid to it, Yuri glanced around the school grounds once more. The building itself had been taped off, with police guarding the perimeter. From what Yuri could gather, the fire had been pretty small and was mostly under control, though the damage had already been done. His eyes lit on a pair of officers that were separate from the crowd control, a young girl standing sullenly in front of them. Yuri got as close as he dared, pretending to unlock a nearby car.

"I didn't _mean_ to, okay? How was I supposed to know the stuff was that flammable?"

"Please calm down, miss. We just wanted to ask you a few questions. If you would cooperate, we'll be finished as quickly as we can. How can we reach your parents?"

The girl huffed, arms crossed tightly against her chest. "Don't ask me. My dad's a _famous_ scientist." The word was drenched with sarcasm. "You can try to get in touch with him, but don't blame me if he blows you off."

"…Alright. We'll need his contact information, though. At any rate, you're certain you've told us everything related to the events that occurred in your classroom this afternoon?"

"Everything I can remember," the girl said, nodding curtly. "I was just trying to prove my theory to my lab partner, who didn't believe I could do it. No one ever does…" She trailed off, grumbling. The police officers exchanged glances.

"That will be all for now, Miss Mordio," said the one who had done most of the talking. "We may need more information in the future, so we would appreciate your continued cooperation."

Well, that had to be the infamous sixth grader. Didn't look much like an arsonist—a tiny girl with red hair falling to her shoulders. Hell of a snarky temper, though. She glared back at the dying flames licking at the school's brick walls, as if she were trying to will them out of existence.

Yuri regarded her for a moment, before going back to see how Karol was doing. The kid was sitting on the curb. Without Nan. Head buried in his arms. Uh oh.

"I'll never be cool enough for her, Yuri. I'm sure I sounded so stupid." His words were muffled into his sleeves.

"Come on, kid. You're being way too hard on yourself."

Karol sniffed loudly, but his eyes were clear when he looked up. "No, it's hopeless. She's gonna tell Tison how lame I am, and then they'll both laugh at me. Did…did you know I'm not allowed in their club anymore?"

Tch. Yuri had forgotten about the joys of childhood elitism. This was the girl Karol chose to crush on, a tomboy who scorned him about as often as she paid attention to him?

"Forget them," he said. "Let's just go home. I think Lori bought ice cream."

There was something to be said for being nine years old, when that was really all you needed to cheer you up.

* * *

Karol ended up getting his favorite meal—spaghetti with meat sauce and garlic bread—and a big bowl of chocolate ice cream out of his harrowing ordeal. Lori's spaghetti was pretty awesome, so Yuri couldn't complain. It definitely beat whatever frozen dinner crap he normally would have eaten back at the dorms.

Another benefit of having classes that started later was that Yuri could afford to stay at home that night, even if it meant getting up a little earlier than he preferred. Well, he'd done it that morning already for the kickboxing class, and was just about tired enough to head to bed after the long day it had turned out to be.

After dinner, Yuri took yet _another_ shower to get the smell of smoke out of his hair—like his clothes, it kind of reeked. This made his third change of clothes of the day, which he was pretty sure was some kind of personal record. Following that dubious distinction, he went to check up on the kid.

The lantern hanging from Karol's treehouse was illuminated, casting a small circle of light in the backyard. When Yuri climbed up into it, he found Karol sitting cross-legged with his head leaned back against the railing. He was peering up into the leaves, but looked over at Yuri with a small smile when he appeared.

"Did you know," he said, "that sailors used to use the North Star to guide their ships? Before stuff like GPS existed."

"Yeah?" said Yuri, even though he had heard it before.

Karol scoffed. "Whatever, you already knew that. But I bet you _didn't_ know that it's sometimes called Cynosura. Which is a _way _cooler name. It means dog's tail. And the brightest star is Sirius, which means dog star. Pretty weird, huh?"

"Okay, you got me there. Where'd you learn that, anyway? School?"

"Wikipedia."

Yuri chuckled, reaching over to ruffle Karol's hair. "How did we ever survive before that existed, huh? What's with the sudden interest in stars, anyway? I took Astronomy, kid. It was lame."

"I dunno." Karol scratched the side of his face thoughtfully. "Just…there are so many stars and stuff out there. I guess I'm starting to feel kinda…small, compared to everything? It's kind of scary. Not like the monsters that Nan and Tison think they're gonna hunt down with their stupid club. I don't care what they say, I _wasn't_ too scared to go look at that bush that was moving funny. I wasn't."

Yuri grinned. "I guess this would be a bad time to tell you that there's a spider on the board that you're leaning on, then."

In an instant, Karol was scooted several feet away from the board in question, having let out a high-pitched yelp that would be embarrassing if he'd been a couple of years older. Yuri collapsed against his knees laughing as the kid scowled at him, then took off a shoe to smack the offending arachnid.

"Okay, it's dead. You can come back now."

Karol slid back over with a baleful look. "I…it might have been poisonous."

"Hey, arachnophobia is a perfectly valid fear. It's right up there with public speaking, and uh…clowns."

"Whatever." He crossed his arms, gazing back up at the darkened sky. "…I'm not afraid of clowns."

"Never said you were, Kay." Yuri looked up as well—there wasn't a lot to see, considering the nearby lantern and streetlights, but a few points of light were visible in gaps between the branches. "Hey, you should start your own club."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, if Nan and that other kid are leaving you out, the best way to fight back is to act like you don't need them in the first place." Yuri was about to say 'fight fire with fire,' but figured that would be in poor taste.

Karol's brow furrowed as he considered this, but then he smiled. "It would need a really cool name."

"Of course."

"And rules. You have to have rules, or it's not a real club."

"…Sure."

"And you'll help me? It has to be really, really awesome."

Yuri smirked, holding out his hand for a fist bump. "You got it, kid."

* * *

The next day, Yuri drove back over to the campus for a day in which Not Much Happened. Classes were boring, as usual, but at least over quickly without Kaufman's class, since he didn't have it on Fridays. He wondered idly if she had been sick, since normally she told them ahead of time if she had a trip or something. Anyway, no squirrel guy, no Flynn, just lecture and notes and Algebra homework.

It was already dark on Friday evening after an equally uneventful work shift that Yuri thought to call Flynn. He closed his bedroom door, which was kind of stupid (it wasn't like he wasn't expected to talk to guys his own age, or that his foster parents had some kind of magical phone gaydar) but whatever.

"Hey." The voice through the phone was the slightest bit raspy and muffled.

"Hey…uh, did I wake you up?" Yuri glanced over at the digital clock by his bed. 7:18. Weird.

"Oh. Yuri." Didn't he look at the name before he answered it? Of course, if he'd been half-asleep… "No, not really. It's fine. I needed to get up anyway. Ah, so what's up?"

"Not much." Yuri wasn't really sure why he—or anyone else, for that matter—said that. It was automatic, even when it wasn't true, like 'not much…but I failed my English test' or 'not much…but my cat died.' He rolled his eyes inwardly at the world in general. "Still want to hang out this weekend? I'm not really doing anything, so."

"Sure, yeah. Definitely. So, tomorrow then?"

"Sounds good. Did you have anything…in mind?"

There was a beat of silence on the other end, and Yuri hoped that Flynn wasn't reading any weird innuendo into the statement. For once, he really hadn't meant any. It was then that he noticed Repede resting his head on his knee, nudging the arm holding the phone with his nose.

"Hey, cut it out."

"Hm?"

"Oh, not you. Repede. My dog."

Repede's ears pricked at his name; apparently satisfied, he slinked back to the end of the bed and curled up there.

"I see. I really like dogs; maybe I'll get to meet him sometime."

"Yeah, maybe." Yuri cleared his throat, realizing that sounded kind of bad. "I mean, I can't guarantee he'll like you, though. He's pretty picky."

That wasn't much better, but at least didn't imply Yuri's (admittedly paranoid) misgivings about bringing Flynn around anytime soon. Yeah, so Yuri wanted to hang out with him, but not here? _That_ would go over well. Anyway, he'd deal with that later. Preferably not at all.

"Oh, I see. Anyway, ah. I'm usually at home over the weekend—I assume you are, too, unless you're violating the dorm pet policy."

"Heh, yeah. Not worth it to try and sneak Repede in and out of there."

"…Okay, I'm going to pretend you just said 'yes, because breaking the rules is bad, Flynn.'"

Yuri grinned. "Whatever makes you feel better."

"_Anyway_," Flynn continued, "you're welcome to come over tomorrow, if you want. We could order pizza or something."

To Flynn's house. Hm. That could mean parents, which was always fraught with dangerous and annoying conversations in a dating situation. As it happened, this did not currently apply in their case. Yeah, that could work.

Which was exactly what he said to Flynn.

* * *

When he pulled up to the address that Flynn had given him the night before, Yuri let out a low whistle. It wasn't Estelle's family's gated and meticulously landscaped estate (a place he rarely felt comfortable visiting, despite Estelle's enthusiastic pleas), but it was still a pretty nice place. Two stories, big detached garage, and from what Yuri could spy over the privacy fence, maybe a pool in the back? Interesting.

Yuri couldn't find the doorbell. It seemed like the fancier the place, the more they tried to hide it. Well, Estelle's didn't even have one. They had an intercom. Naturally. Anyway, he ignored the basically-useless tiny metal door knocker and rapped his knuckles against the door. Twice, three times. He was about to give up and just send Flynn a text telling him that he was here when the door handle started turning. Yuri lifted his eyes from his phone and quickly closed it.

The person who answered the door was not Flynn, but she looked like him. Kind of. She had the same blue eyes and blonde hair, but her smile was different and Flynn definitely wasn't a middle-aged woman. Yuri had just enough time to note these things before she grasped him by the shoulders.

"Connor Lowell," she said. "But you go by Yuri now, don't you? Goodness, but I'd hardly recognize you. All grown up into such a handsome young man."

Yuri…really didn't know what to say to that. He was sure he'd seen this lady about as much as Flynn, back in his hometown at those karate lessons, but he hadn't realized he'd made any sort of an impression back then. Of course, it was a lot easier to remember an old friend of your nine-year-old son, than for said nine-year-old to remember the friend's mother years later.

The woman laughed. "I'm sorry, I'm sure I've embarrassed you. Flynn would be red as a tomato right now if he heard me. Please, come in. I don't know if you remember me; I'm Rebecca."

She shook hands with Yuri briefly—her hands were really soft, and he found himself instantly forgiving her the mortifying Mom-talk.

"Flynn will be down shortly," she said. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

Rebecca had a way about her that made it seem like she really _wanted_ to rather than just asking because that was what a hostess was supposed to do. Yuri sat at a kitchen island as she got him a Coke.

The lid of Yuri's can opened with a sharp hiss; across the island, Rebecca shook her head and smiled.

"I can't believe you boys ended up going to the same university. Do you like the school?"

Yuri shrugged. "Yeah, I can't complain."

In response, Rebecca nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I think it's neat. Hold on, I'll be right back."

She left the kitchen, and Yuri sat there sipping his Coke and taking in his surroundings. Everything was pretty clean and tidy—this didn't surprise him; Flynn had to get it from somewhere. But it was still cozy, not one of those places where you felt like you couldn't touch anything.

Rebecca's voice floated in from somewhere further inside the house. "…No, he's already here. …I just _did_ tell you, honey."

Yuri raised an eyebrow, smirking into the rim of his soda can. A minute or so later, he heard the sound of soft, approaching footsteps just before Flynn appeared in the kitchen doorway. His hair was damp, slightly darkened and sticking to his neck where the longer layers fell.

"Hey," he said. Yuri nodded in reply. "My mom's ordering the pizza. She says it's her treat."

"Alright, cool."

A slightly awkward beat of silence. Yuri took a sip of Coke, and Flynn drummed his fingers against the island where his hands were braced there.

"So, do you do much gaming?"

Yuri grinned. "Video games? Hell yeah."

In a wordless mutual agreement, they drifted over to the (equally clean yet comfortable) living room. Flynn knelt by the TV and set things up while Yuri slid down to the floor, with his back resting against the couch. After a brief debate over the merits of playing a racing game or a shooter, it was decided that they would go with the classics. Halo 3, it was.

Flynn settled next to him with a controller, their shoulders not quite touching but, you know, almost. One thing that was nice about being a guy, orientation notwithstanding, was that bonding over mutual interests didn't have to involve deep conversation and touchy-feely crap. Mostly they just ran around shooting each other. And the trash-talking. Can't forget the trash-talking.

"That's five kills to _one_. I am so kicking your ass into next week, dude."

Flynn snorted. "That's the best you've got? I could come up with better than that in my sleep."

"Really? I don't think you have much room to talk." Yuri blasted Flynn's guy down from where he'd been trying to hide behind a rock. "Looks like I finally found something that the great Flynn Scifo isn't the best at."

That got him a dubious look; Flynn paused the game. "Am I supposed to be impressed? All that means is that you've slacked off enough to perfect your skills on a _video game_."

"Hey. Priorities, man." Yuri shrugged. "I've got mine, you've got yours."

"Right," said Flynn, "and mine mean that I can do this."

Yuri didn't have time to wonder what he was talking about; in one fluid motion, Flynn had captured Yuri's arms and pinned him to the floor. Okay, he had a point—and _damn_, if it wasn't kind of unintentionally sexy. It didn't hurt, and it wasn't even really aggressive, at least not in a bad way. Just like back in karate, but also completely different. Flynn was hovering over him, and Yuri was kind of glad that they were only touching at his shoulders. It was bad enough that he knew exactly what it would feel like if he lifted his head to close the bare inches between them.

Instead, Yuri quirked an eyebrow, and the progression of expressions on Flynn's face was pretty hilarious. Smugness turned to embarrassment in just a few seconds, and he levered himself up quickly with a hand on the couch cushions. Yuri pushed himself back up not long after.

"Point taken," he said simply, letting some of his amusement seep into the statement. Yuri picked his controller back up and waited for Flynn to unpause their game—which he did after a moment, wordlessly. Yeah, he was definitely blushing.

They slipped back into the rhythm of earlier; Flynn even managed to kill Yuri's guy a few times. The pizza arrived and they stopped playing long enough to eat in the dining room. Yuri wasn't sure where Rebecca had gone, but she seemed pretty good about leaving them alone. He guessed that Flynn was the type of kid whose judgment was easy to trust. So there were some advantages to being a goody-goody nerd, anyway.

Not long after they had resumed their game, Rebecca slid into the room bearing a plate of cookies. She smiled kindly at both of them as she set it on the coffee table, then shut the door again.

"Dude," said Yuri, reaching toward the plate. Hmm, chocolate chip. You really couldn't go wrong there. "Your mom is kind of awesome."

Flynn laughed, looking pleased. "Yeah? Thanks. I don't know, I think I'm pretty lucky."

Damn straight, he was. Lori was okay, but she wasn't Yuri's mom, and there were still certain things he didn't feel comfortable talking to her about. Eh, but it wasn't time to get all sappy about it. Yuri took a bite of the cookie—yep, amazing.

"I hope," Flynn continued, "that she didn't say anything embarrassing when you first got here."

Let's see. Called him Connor, grabbed him by the shoulders, said he was handsome and then implied that Flynn would be embarrassed that she pointed that out—nope, nothing at all.

"Nah. Oh, but she did show me the cutest naked baby pictures."

"_What_—"

"I'm just messing with you, man. Although now that I know they actually exist…"

Flynn scowled a little. "They don't."

"Uh huh," said Yuri, around a bite of cookie. "These are really good."

"I'll tell her you said so." Flynn let out a breath and shook his head, seeming to war between exasperation and amusement. Yep, welcome to what being friends with Yuri Lowell was _really_ like. Ha.

Before Yuri knew it, it was dark outside. He'd arrived in the early afternoon, but time quickly ran away from him. He cracked a yawn, then blinked up when something was deposited on the couch behind him. Blankets and a pillow.

"Uh," he started, but didn't get far.

"You're staying," Rebecca said firmly, though she was smiling. "It's starting to get late, and I hear it's a bit of a drive back to your house. Anyway, I must insist."

Yuri glanced over at Flynn, who put his hands out and shrugged. "It's up to you," he said, after his mom had left the room. "Though you'll have a hard time when she has her mind made up like that, believe me. Our couch _is_ pretty comfortable, though."

Though the offer had surprised him, Yuri didn't really have any objections to it. He didn't bring anything with him, of course, but didn't need much other than a toothbrush (they kept a new spare one for guests) and something other than his jeans to sleep in (borrowed from Flynn.)

Just before Flynn went upstairs to his room, Yuri pulled out his phone to call Ken and Lori and tell them what was going on.

"What's so funny?" asked Flynn. A quick burst of laughter had escaped as soon as Yuri had flipped open his phone.

"Oh, nothing. Hey, think fast." Yuri swung his phone up and snapped a picture, snickering at the puzzled expression that it had captured.

"What is that, blackmail?"

Yuri shook his head, smirking. "Flynn, you wound me."

"I'm sure. Anyway, goodnight Yuri."

"Yeah, yeah; night."

The phone lay open on the coffee table, the only illumination once Flynn switched off the light on his way out.

_From: Estelle (4:35 P.M.)_

_omg did he kiss u yet? take a picture of him and send it to me! xoxo, estelle_

_

* * *

_A/N: *squishes Karol* I love all of the ToV characters a lot, but haven't always had the opportunity to highlight his character. His mentor-big/little-brother-y relationship with Yuri is one of my favorites. I get why some people are annoyed with him during the game (heck, at times I am too…though mostly I think that's a voice actor thing, and the fact that he's very immature in the beginning especially) but I do think he grows a lot and can be a pretty awesome kid.

I had a lot of fun writing the Yuri-at-Flynn's-house scenes, too. I hope you all enjoy! (The next chapter of Glass Fortress, by the way, is about halfway done. This doesn't mean it will take an equal length of time to finish it, though…normally, it takes a lot longer to sort out in my mind what needs to happen and then just a few days to write the chapter itself.)


	6. Chapter 6

**6.**

Yuri was quite happy where he was, thanks. Flopped stomach-down on the couch cushions, blankets pulled up almost to his ears and an arm flung up over his head—anything he could do to maximize the amount of time before morning invaded his precious sleep. And right now he _was_ being invaded. Eyes still closed, Yuri used his other hand to tug the blankets further up, blocking whoever was _poking_ him out of view.

"Ngh. G'way."

He thought he heard someone laughing softly. Ugh, they could laugh all they wanted. This couch was really comfy…hmm. Wait, couch? After a few moments of his sluggish brain trying to process this, Yuri realized abruptly where he was. He opened his eyes to narrowed slits and pushed the blankets (and his hair) away from his face.

"Sorry," said Flynn, whose smile actually seemed more amused than apologetic. "I'm about to go for a run. I assume you don't want to join me for that, but the shower upstairs is free if you want to use it."

Even if that definitely hadn't been the intention, Yuri's half-awake brain decided to latch onto and snicker at the fact that Flynn had just said "shower" and "join me" in the same sentence. Mm. He reluctantly pushed the thought away—since, you know, it probably wasn't the kind of thing he should be thinking about as long as this whole 'just friends' thing was going on. Or something.

Yuri stretched as he sat up, running fingers through his hair to make sure it wasn't sticking up everywhere. "Geez, you weren't kidding when you said you ran all the time, huh?"

Flynn shrugged.

"It's good exercise when I don't have the class. Keeps my focus sharp."

Right, like he needed that. Yuri was pretty sure there were professional snipers with less focus than this guy.

"Okay. You do that, then." He hid a yawn behind his hand as he peered around. "Wait, is the _sun_ even out yet? The hell…I'm going back to sleep."

There was another laugh from Flynn as he started walking toward the door. "That's up to you. My mom likes to have breakfast ready for me when I come back, though. I think she's making pancakes."

Yuri grumbled at Flynn's retreating back. This guy was going to be the death of him. First Flynn made him break his no-waking-before-nine rule for that kickboxing class, and now he was up at (Yuri checked his phone, still lying on the coffee table) _six forty-five_ on a weekend? He scrubbed a hand over his face, laughing a little. Well, now that he was up…

By the time that Yuri had finished his morning routine and headed back downstairs, breakfast food smells were wafting through the air. Right now the overpowering scent was bacon, which Yuri could hear sizzling in a pan in the kitchen. Rebecca looked up and smiled as he walked in. She slid the bacon onto a plate and covered the strips with a paper towel.

"I would have made some for you later if you needed more sleep, you know. Flynn gets his early-rising from me, I'm afraid. I don't think he realizes that not everyone shares his enthusiasm." She laughed and motioned for Yuri to take a seat.

"Nah," he said, shaking his head wryly. "I wouldn't make you do that. Don't worry about it."

"Alright, if you say so. Do you like hot chocolate?"

Yuri did, in fact—he was unlikely to turn down sweets of any kind. Rebecca got down three mugs from a cabinet, setting one to the side near the platter of bacon.

"I always make hot chocolate for Flynn," she explained. "It's… a tradition, I guess. It makes me happy that I can still do this for him on the weekends, even though he's off at college."

Not knowing what to say about that, Yuri nodded. He thanked her as he was handed the mug, steam curling off of it. She had made some for herself as well, and held it in both hands as she sat sideways on a stool next to his.

"So," she said, earnestly, "how have you been?"

There was a kind of hesitant, crinkly false-cheer in her expression that Yuri was familiar enough with over the years to think—_she knew_. Until recently, his mental reaction would have been somewhere between 'get out of here as fast as I can' and 'yeah, my parents died, get over it.' But somehow things were changing, a little. And, unlike a lot of people, Rebecca seemed like she actually gave a crap.

"Okay, I guess. I'm living with a pretty good family. Classes are going well. Like I said last night; can't complain."

Rebecca smiled, quick and tight. "I'm glad. Even though you were a friend of Flynn's, I can't say I knew your mother especially well. But I was very sorry to hear about that."

Yuri nodded, took a sip of his hot chocolate. It occurred to him that he should return the courtesy.

"Uh, and you guys? Sorry, that summer is kind of a blur now. I don't even remember if Flynn has any siblings or anything…"

"I understand. No, Flynn's an only child." Rebecca set her mug on the kitchen island and began twisting a ring on her right hand. "We've managed. …I don't know how much Flynn has told you."

"All I know is that he wants to be a big-shot lawyer and gets up at ungodly hours of the morning." Yuri rolled his eyes, and Rebecca laughed a little.

"Both true," she said, then her eyes softened. "You might have seen his father once or twice back then. He was in the Army, so he was away a lot."

Sorting through those long-neglected memories, Yuri thought he could maybe call up a vague image of a man in uniform, but he wasn't really sure.

"Yeah."

Rebecca paused, took a breath. "He was in Iraq in 2004. His convoy was attacked…he was Flynn's hero, you know. Mine, too, but…I'm sure he thought he was invincible more than anyone else."

Well, damn. Yuri hadn't brought up his parents with Flynn yet, of course, but it sounded like they had more common ground there than he had thought. As horrible as it might be. And it also explained why Flynn had set his sights on becoming a soldier when he was younger.

"I'm sorry," said Yuri, because he was, and because that was what you were supposed to say.

"Thank you. So am I." Rebecca cleared her throat, blinking as if suddenly remembering where she was. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make the mood so depressing. I just thought you might want to know, and Flynn may not talk about it very easily."

"I get that," Yuri admitted, nodding. "Thanks."

Rebecca brightened quickly after that, swooping into action as she stirred up the batter ingredients and chattering about everything from the weather to any summer plans he might have—as if he had actually thought that far ahead. There was a significant stack of pancakes piled up on a plate beside the stove when the front door opened and shut.

"Oh, good," said Flynn, grinning as he walked into the kitchen and caught Yuri's eye. "I was afraid you'd still be burrowed into the couch."

"It was tempting, believe me." Yuri poured syrup over his short stack of pancakes, watching the amber-brown liquid fall and pool around the edges of the plate. "You've got a bad habit of convincing me to get up at hours when no sane human should be conscious."

"Ha. Wait, are you calling me insane?"

"Yep." Yuri sawed off a corner of pancake with his knife and fork, punctuating his statement by taking a bite. He was about to go for another one when the plate disappeared from beneath his nose. "Hey!"

"You shouldn't be impolite to your hosts, Yuri." Flynn smirked, edging the plate further away from him.

"Okay, you're _definitely_ insane. Give me that."

Yuri lunged across the island and huffed as Flynn picked up his plate and started to walk off with it. At the stove, watching them, Rebecca laughed.

* * *

Not long after breakfast, Yuri went home and promptly took a four-hour nap. Or, as he saw it, reclaimed the hours he _would_ have spent asleep if it weren't for that annoyingly persuasive blond. He'd enjoyed talking with Rebecca though, he had to admit. It helped him to understand where Flynn was coming from, made him feel like he'd known the guy for a lot longer than he actually had. A lot of it felt like that, actually: weirdly comfortable and familiar. And that was fine with him. Those were two words that didn't describe much of his life, anyway.

The way the weekend had gone made Yuri think it was probably okay to try and hang around Flynn on a more regular basis. They met for a quick lunch on Tuesday—quick because Flynn had something or other that he had to dash off to about fifteen minutes after they had sat down at a table in the dining hall with their food. Man, Yuri couldn't help kind of feeling like a slacker around him, even if he did get mostly A's and B's in his own classes. (That look that his professors always got when they called Yuri's name and looked down at his papers, all confusedly scrunched eyebrows and pursed lips, never failed to amuse him. The guy who spent most of class with his chin in his hand, twirling a pen, wasn't supposed to get good grades.) In the end, he just wasn't that motivated to be an over-achiever.

Estelle, by this point, had become convinced that they were secretly dating. When Yuri asked her one night what possible motivation she thought he'd have for keeping it from her, Estelle replied petulantly that she didn't know, but she definitely had her eye on them, so to speak. Meanwhile, the picture had resulted in a text that was pretty much one long line of hearts, with "ah, so cute!" serving as a centerpiece in the middle of them. Judy's reaction had been similar, if a bit less…exuberant.

Thursday morning rolled around again to Yuri glaring blearily at his flashing alarm and cursing the mysterious influence that this guy had over him. Before getting ready, he turned on his computer to check his e-mail—something that Yuri had decided to make a habit after realizing that Kaufman had sent out one to the class the morning that it had been canceled. Sure enough, there was one from Raven. Which was, apparently, _actually_ all he went by. What a strange guy.

From what Yuri could gather from the rambling message, they were having a sub today because of some "old war wound actin' up." Okay. Sounded like something someone twice this guy's age might say, but whatever. Yuri was both curious and apprehensive about finding out who would come in as Raven's replacement. He even showed up (basically) on time for the second class in a row. Flynn smiled in greeting as Yuri sat cross-legged beside him on the mats.

"Do you know who our sub is gonna be?" Yuri didn't even bother asking if he had read the e-mail; that was a given.

Flynn shook his head.

"No, this is the first week that Raven hasn't been here himself. Your guess is as good as mine."

They didn't have to wait long. A man with graying hair strode in purposefully until he stood in front of the mirrors that lined one side of the room.

"My name," he said in a crisp voice, "is Drake. I will be teaching this class today in your normal instructor's stead. I'm a former Marine, and while I will not hold you to those same standards, neither do I tolerate laziness or apathy. Any questions?"

Several of the students exchanged nervous glances; Flynn just looked determined. Yuri hung his head a little and sighed; this was going to be a long morning.

Drake was constantly moving. There was no music playing this morning, just words of gruff encouragement and correction as the man paced the room, hands clasped behind his back as he scrutinized everyone's technique. Yuri nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand grasped his elbow.

"You need to keep this straight. Also, your center of balance is unstable. I could sweep you to the floor with one foot."

For a moment, Yuri was afraid that Drake planned to do just that. He nodded, acknowledging the observations and trying to incorporate them into his next punch to the weighted bag in front of him.

"He's new," Flynn interjected. Drake arched an eyebrow as if he already found that abundantly obvious. He walked away without saying another word.

"Not very personable, eh?" Yuri smirked, looking over at Flynn, who shook his head.

"I don't know. I think he's just very serious about this."

It took one to know one, Yuri guessed. Whenever Drake made his way over to observe Flynn, there was something in his expression that implied he was impressed, even if he didn't necessarily say so. In turn, Flynn seemed pleased by this. It made Yuri think he was probably the same way in his more academic classes. He was willing to bet Flynn was one of those people that actually answered the professors' questions.

Later, when Drake was selecting a student to use as an example of hold-breaking techniques in front of the rest of the class, his gaze lingered on several faces including Flynn's before he pulled out someone who was good, but not quite as strong. Yuri couldn't tell if Flynn looked disappointed or not; he still watched with rapt attention as Drake walked the students through the best ways to counter various grips and turn them to one's advantage.

Yuri was standing near the door with Flynn after class when Drake passed near them, apparently on his way out. He paused, began to speak without quite looking at Flynn directly.

"You have, I think, the qualities of a leader within you," he said. "Everyone with such potential expects for it to be noticed and rewarded. But a good leader must allow others to share the spotlight, because in other times they may be forced to take the credit for something they did not do alone. They must always remember that even the best individuals are only one small part of a whole."

Flynn nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me. I have a meeting with President Dinoia."

Drake's words were accompanied by a poorly disguised sneer, which nearly made Yuri laugh aloud. It seemed like most people either hated the university's president, or worshiped the ground he walked on. From what he'd heard, the former opinion was probably closer to what the guy deserved.

But that had been, Yuri thought, an interesting observation from Drake—high praise, but also humbling. Flynn was quiet for most of the walk back to the dorms.

* * *

That night, Yuri couldn't sleep. It wasn't that his mind was racing or anything—he didn't spend _that_ much time deep in thought—or that he couldn't get comfortable. Maybe it had something to do with the couple that had been fighting loudly in the parking lot, or the car that kept driving by with a bass beat pounding. Neither of those things were unusual events on campus, but for some reason tonight they were all coming together into the perfect formula for a bad case of insomnia.

He lay on his back in the dark for a few minutes, listening to his roommate snore, before he decided that he'd had enough. After rummaging around for a hoodie and pulling it on, Yuri grabbed his keys and headed out. He didn't really care if the sound of the door closing woke Eric up.

In their building, a storage room contained access to the roof. The students weren't allowed to go up there, but there was a lot of things that Yuri did that he wasn't technically supposed to do. And it wasn't like it would hurt anything. Besides, they should have kept it locked up better if they really wanted to keep people out. So he stepped over piles of cleaning supplies and climbed the narrow staircase.

The rusty door creaked open with a blast of cool night air; Yuri dug his hands into his pockets as it closed behind him. From the roof, you could look out over a lot of the campus, and it was hard to see if anyone was up there from the ground. Usually there wasn't. For most people, the view and solitude wasn't worth the possibility of being fined for trespassing. So the few times Yuri had come up here late at night, he'd been alone.

That was, anyway, what he had been counting on.

"Oh," he said, because there was someone leaning out over the railing on the other side of the roof, and they had swung their head back to look at him. A cigarette between their knuckles released a curling stream of smoke that mixed with breath freezing in the air.

"Didn't realize there was anyone else up here," Yuri went on, unfazed by the bland stare that was being directed at him. "But hey, if you want to go somewhere else, I don't blame you."

"Hm. Unusual," said Squirrel Guy, sans squirrels. "_You_ are the one intruding."

Yuri snorted and crossed to the railing, leaning back and hooking his elbows over it a few feet away from the guy. "I guess. Not like it belongs to anyone, though. Anyway, I'm not going anywhere."

"If that is what you wish." One shoulder shrugged minutely, a hand raising to take a long pull from the cigarette. His hands were clad in velvety-looking black gloves, Yuri noted.

There was silence for a moment.

"Those things will kill you, y'know," said Yuri, for lack of anything else to say, and because he was feeling snarky.

"Perhaps," Squirrel Guy agreed, tilting his head to the side. Pale hair shifted and fell from his shoulder. "But there are many ways to die in this life. It is inevitable. So if I choose my own method…what of it? We control very little of our own lives, in truth."

Yuri blinked, shook his head. "Huh, so you're one of those. Let me guess…philosophy major."

He got another bland, somewhat bored look in response, and sighed.

"Okay. Hey, what's your name, anyway?" Yuri couldn't just keep thinking of him as Squirrel Guy, as apt a nickname as that might be.

"…It's Duke."

A smirk curled on Yuri's lips. Seriously? He was beginning to think he'd somehow ended up at the School-for-the-Weirdly-Named and no one had bothered to tell him about it.

"It is not my given name."

Oh. Well, there went that theory.

"However, it is what I prefer to be called. I feel, though, that this conversation is fruitless. It is a means of developing acquaintances and friendships, and those are not something in which I am interested. Other humans are not to be trusted."

Yuri snorted. "Wow, you're a strange guy. Fine, I'll leave you alone."

He turned around to look out over the dorm buildings behind theirs; not much to see but flickering streetlamps and the occasional car driving by. Once he saw a campus police vehicle patrolling, but they weren't likely to look up or check the roof unless they received a call about it. The wind changed direction, blowing some of the smoke into Yuri's face. He coughed.

When he looked over a moment later, Duke had just finished snuffing out his half-smoked cigarette. There was no discernible reaction to Yuri's questioning look. His business on the roof apparently done, then, Duke began to walk in the direction of the stairs.

One hand on the door, he turned his head. "It would be wise," Duke said, in that ridiculously deep voice, "to follow my example. There will not always be someone to come to your aid if another person wishes you harm."

And then he was gone, leaving Yuri to puzzle over his parting words, half amused and half annoyed—who did he think he was, acting like he could tell other people how to live their lives? Huh. And what was he talking about, 'wish you harm'? Did he know about the basketball team somehow? It was all just kind of vague and creepy.

Yuri shrugged it off. It didn't really matter, anyway, even if it did make him a little curious. But he felt like he might finally be getting sleepy, and he was going to take advantage of that fact while he could.

* * *

Friday afternoon, Yuri got an "urgent" phone call from Judy. The nature of the emergency wasn't clear, but he found himself pulling up to her house not long after, anyway. He nodded to her father as he passed through the living room—predictably, he didn't even look up from whatever he was working on at his desk—and knocked on her bedroom door, which was cracked open.

"Come in," she called, so he did.

Judy's room was what some might describe as "controlled chaos." There was a bed in the corner, but it was easy to miss with the bolts of fabric piled on top of it; Yuri could only assume she cleared a space when it was actually time to sleep there. Elsewhere, scraps and machines and various tools were scattered about in what might be a sort of pattern, if you knew how to look for it. It was just this side of a complete mess. Yuri picked through it to find Judy seated on a vinyl-cushioned desk chair, spinning lazily from side to side. It was bright orange, fitting with the explosion of color in the rest of the room.

"So," she said with a sly smile, "how's the boy?"

Yuri made a face. "What 'boy'? Judy, if this is the emergency you could've just called me…"

"Don't be coy, Yuri. You know, the one you're not-dating. The cute one." Judy reached up to adjust the chopsticks holding her hairstyle in place, smoothed the violet streak dyed into her bangs so that it fell just so.

"Flynn? You've got the _not_ part right," he muttered. "Uh, he's fine. Busy studying for a test or something."

"Hm, I see. You'll have to bring him around sometime. Make sure I approve of him." Judy winked, then turned the chair to dig through a pile of boxes behind her.

That thought, Yuri mused, was mildly terrifying. More for Flynn than for himself. Judy could act incredibly harmless and mild-mannered, yet would nonetheless eat him _alive._ But yeah, he'd probably bring him around at some point. If they were becoming friends, might as well introduce him to the other people he spent the most time with. He did think that Flynn would like them, once he got past being squealed over and grilled within an inch of his life.

"But no," Judy continued. "That isn't why I called you over here. Ah, there it is."

She lifted up a couple other boxes to slide out another, long and white, and set it on the table in front of her. With a flourish, she lifted the lid and unfolded the rustling tissue paper within. Yuri stared; Judy beamed proudly.

"What," he finally managed to say, "the _hell_ is that?"

* * *

A/N: I know, I know, I'm evil; don't hurt me! I promise you'll find out what Judy made very soon. *grins*

Anyway, yes, _President Dinoia._ What does this mean? Well, that remains to be seen, because it's a modern college setting and I'm pretty sure he isn't trying to take over the world. XD Probably. Also, Drake! Umm, if anyone doesn't know/forgot who he is (it's pretty easy, because he's a missable sub-event in the game due to the fact it's so picky about such things), Drake is a famed knight who used to teach Estelle sword-fighting lessons. In ToV, he tends to show up and hand out life lessons/advice, so I decided to use him for that here. ;)

…Obvious parallels with Tales of Vesperia events in the Duke section are obvious. Pfft.


	7. Chapter 7

**7.**

Yuri hadn't been sure what Judy had been making all this time, but what the box actually contained was pretty much at the bottom of his list of guesses. He lifted it up and away from him as if it was radioactive, made a face.

"Oh, you don't like it?" Judy said teasingly, earning a glare from Yuri over the outfit he was holding up.

'_It_' was a long expanse of furry white material, and Yuri hadn't quite been able to tell what it was until he spied the floppy, pink-lined ears buried half underneath. Pulling the suit up revealed a mask to match.

"Don't tell me," he said, deadpan, "that this is for me. 'Cause you couldn't pay me to wear this."

"Aw. I would've thought you were more flexible, considering all the outfits you wore for the drama productions. Why, this is nothing compared to—"

"Yeah, yeah," said Yuri, interrupting her. "That was different. Seriously, what the hell, Judy?"

He dropped the suit back into the box, crossed his arms. Meanwhile, Judy continued to smirk at him.

"As you know," she said, "Easter is coming up. One of the elementary schools knew of my work in wardrobe at the high school and asked if I would make this for them."

She shrugged casually, but her eyes practically glinted with mischief.

"I may have also told them that I knew someone that would suit the role perfectly. And set the pattern to his measurements."

Yuri cursed under his breath, knowing that beneath her cool exterior Judy was _cracking up._ The suit—the _Easter Bunny_ _suit_—lay there accusingly.

"Hey, I never agreed to this. You'll just have to find someone else."

Judy shook her head. "Oh, Yuri. It's far too late notice for that. And think of the children. They would be so disappointed."

She just had to hit him in a weak point. In the end, little kids always got to him. Yuri heaved an exaggerated sigh.

"You _will_ be wearing a mask," Judy reminded him. "No one has to know that it's you, if it will wound your delicate sense of pride."

He had glared fiercely, but knew that the battle had been won. And that was how Monday morning found him—up early _again_—at what turned out to be Karol's elementary school, a line of preschool to second-grade aged kids lined up to stand next to him and have a picture taken.

At least the suit wasn't itchy. Yuri stood there for probably forty-five minutes before he was given a break, and wandered off in search of a bathroom. The kids had been good so far; only a couple of the really little ones had cried, and he was pretty good at the whole 'calming them down without actually talking' thing. Chocolate tended to be an effective bribe.

Yuri walked down several hallways until he stumbled upon a bathroom, ducking into the boys' side. Everyone from the nearby rooms was apparently in class at the moment, or waiting for him to come back, so it was empty. He set the mask, which he had removed, next to the sink as he washed his hands.

The sinks were open to the hallway and as Yuri glanced to his left, he noticed a student leaning against a nearby wall. A girl, arms folded across her chest, looking angry or annoyed about something. He tilted his head and realized that he recognized her from the day he'd picked up Karol after the fire. The fire that, apparently, _she_ had started. (The sixth grade hall had been closed off for repairs; Yuri had learned from Karol a while back that the students were holding their classes in smaller, repurposed rooms until that was completed.)

"Aren't you supposed to be in class?" Yuri asked casually, drying his hands on a paper towel. The girl glanced over at him, startled, like she hadn't realized he was there.

"Who the hell are you?" she snapped, and Yuri arched an brow. "Or a better question, what the hell are you wearing?"

"I'm the Easter Bunny," Yuri said cheekily, earning a skeptical look from the girl. "Who are you?"

"The Easter Bunny doesn't exist," she scoffed, "and that'd be a little easier to believe if you weren't _carrying_ your mask. Anyway, why should I tell you anything? I'm twelve, and you're, what, twenty? You could be some weirdo. I shouldn't even be talking to you."

"Eighteen, thanks," said Yuri, rolling his eyes. "And I guess you're right, but your school hired me for the morning, so _they _must not think I'm a weirdo."

"Whatever." The girl crossed her arms more tightly, looked away from him.

"So," said Yuri. "Cutting class, huh?"

She didn't respond.

"I've done that a few times in my day," he continued. "But that's just 'cause I'm not the biggest fan of rules and not being able to do whatever I want. You look kinda pissed, though."

The girl snorted. "Don't let the teachers hear you say that. We're not supposed to say that word here."

"I bet they don't like it when you say 'hell' either," Yuri said, smirking.

She smiled despite herself, looking down at her feet, though it was fleeting.

"Touché," she said, quietly. "Anyway, no one's gonna miss me…"

"I'm sure your teacher will come looking for you before long." Yuri shrugged, remembering his own elementary school days. Keeping track of who was where tended to be a lot more important.

"That's not what I meant," she snapped, and Yuri held up his hands in surrender.

"Okay, sorry. Geez."

The girl made a frustrated noise. "What do you care, anyway? Where'd you even come from?"

Yuri scratched his neck. Maybe this suit _was_ a little itchy. "Uh, my brother goes to school here. He's in fourth grade, though; Karol Capel, I dunno if you know him."

That provoked a bark of laughter. "Karol? Yeah, I know that loudmouth. Kinda hard to miss him, when he's bragging about how tough he is to those kids that bully him."

Yuri's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, he gets bullied?"

"Yeah," the girl said, looking him in the eye. "What, you didn't know? They don't like, beat him up or anything, but he gets teased a lot by this one group of boys. I'm pretty sure I heard him say that _you_ would beat them up for him, actually." She snorted, as if in disbelief.

His mind working, Yuri was quiet for a minute. "No, I had no idea. Man."

The girl nodded, then thrust out her hand. "I'm Rita," she said, and frowned at Yuri's look of surprise as he shook her hand quickly. "Look, I decided that I can trust you. Now you tell me _your_ name, if you forgot how this works."

"Oh. It's Yuri." He smiled, which she returned hesitantly. "Uh, it was nice to meet you. Thanks for telling me about my brother. I've got to get back and, you know. Be the bunny. But you should probably go back to class yourself."

Rita shrugged, glancing down the hallway. "I will, in a minute. Later, Yuri."

He turned to go, wondering what her story was. It seemed like there was a lot going on that he didn't know about. Yuri sighed and shook his head. He put the mask back on while back-tracking through the hallways and waved to the kids, who eagerly waved back as he entered the room.

* * *

Yuri spent a lot of the early part of the week scrambling to finish his essay, whose deadline had snuck up on him—as deadlines tended to do. It was due on Wednesday, and while he did get it done, he was kind of exhausted by the time he turned it in. Yuri hoped that the fact that he had basically skim-read the entire stupid book wouldn't blow up in his face, but he thought he had BS-ed it well enough. English wasn't his strongest class, but he could usually swing a passing grade in most assignments.

Once, about a week or so earlier, Yuri had called Flynn up and asked his advice on how to rework a certain paragraph. Man, that was the _last_ time was gonna do that. Flynn seemed to think he should put way more effort into it than Yuri was willing to do, and they'd argued that point for about fifteen minutes until Yuri had interrupted him and said goodnight. So they would just have to agree to disagree. (Yeah, like that would happen.)

Still, Yuri was feeling pretty good once that was over. Walking into kickboxing on Thursday revealed that Raven was back, as oddball and energetic as ever, with no outward sign of that "war wound" he'd claimed in last week's e-mail. Yuri decided it was just some weird turn of phrase—he couldn't see this guy in any military branch, anyway.

He paired Yuri and Flynn up with different people that morning, which had to happen eventually. The guy that Yuri was practicing with seemed nice enough, though he didn't talk much. He introduced himself as Rich, kind of low and quiet, but otherwise focused on the drills they were running, alternating punches and kicks as they moved in a line across the mats.

To Yuri's annoyance, Raven gave Flynn one of the class's few girls as a partner. They weren't far from Rich and Yuri, so he had to watch the girl moon over him and giggle whenever she made a mistake. Ugh. At least he knew it wasn't like she was competition. Flynn, of course, was exceedingly polite and patient with her. Yuri barely resisted rolling his eyes.

After class, Yuri was swinging his arms around and stretching them when Flynn approached.

"Hey," he said, smiling. It wasn't like they hadn't greeted each other at the beginning of class, but because of the circumstances, they hadn't really gotten to talk much—not to mention Yuri's self-imposed exile due to the essay deadline.

"Hey," Yuri responded, letting his arms fall back to his sides.

"I was wondering," Flynn continued, "if you were busy this weekend."

Yuri shook his head. "Nope, I'm free. You want to do something?"

"Yeah. Actually, there's going to be a concert in the park on Saturday. I'm not really sure about your musical preferences, but it seemed like something worth checking out, at least." Flynn smiled, brought a hand up to rub his neck a little.

A grin slowly spread on Yuri's face. "Flynn. Are you asking me out on a date? 'Cause it kind of sounds like it."

"What? No. I mean…" And, as tended to happen when Flynn got flustered, his cheeks flushed. "I just thought it sounded like it could be fun."

Uh huh. "Yeah. Okay, sure. I mean, we can just leave if it's lame, right?"

"Right." Flynn looked relieved that Yuri had dropped the subject, but he was still blushing. Over his shoulder, the girl he had been practicing with gaped at them. Yuri bit his lip, trying not to crack up laughing. Flynn clearly had _no_ idea what he had just done. Heh, served her right.

"Well, you know the drill. Text me with the time and place, and I'll meet you there."

Flynn nodded, dashing off in an obvious escape of embarrassment, since normally they walked back to the dorms together. Yuri snickered to himself inwardly all the way back.

The rest of the morning was pretty uneventful and boring, except for when he left the history class's amphitheater, heading toward the food court for lunch. Yuri was halfway down the sidewalk that looped around the quad when he spotted the university's president, flanked by a man he didn't recognize. He was dressed in a suit and had slicked-back brown hair that fell to his shoulders, with dark sunglasses shielding his eyes despite the fact that the sky was kind of overcast that day. The man leaned in to whisper to President Dinoia, and they ducked into a side door of the student union building before Yuri could get a closer look. Weird. But not so weird that it prevented Yuri from pretty much forgetting about it by mid-afternoon.

* * *

Yuri showed up at the park about ten minutes before the concert was supposed to start, grabbing himself a spot to watch from when Flynn ended up being nowhere in sight. He finally shouldered through to Yuri's side as the band was announced, sounding a little out of breath.

"Sorry," he said, loudly over the hum of the crowd. "I was meeting with a tutoring student, and it ran a little later than I expected."

"You have tutoring students?" Yuri asked, though it wasn't like that surprised him. "I guess that's a good way to make a little extra money."

Flynn shrugged. "Yeah, I guess." Like that wasn't even why he did it. The weirdo. "Anyway, uh, Sodia says hi. Apparently she knows you…?"

Yuri froze, glanced over at Flynn with alarm. On stage, the band was coming out and saying something about a new album, glad they could be here, and so on.

"Did you just say _Sodia_? You tutor _Sodia?_"

Flynn's brow creased with confusion. "Yes. Is there a problem with that? She's a very dedicated student."

"Yeah, I'm sure she is. I'm _also_ sure she now has a monstrous crush on you."

The confusion in his expression only grew. Flynn talked louder over the music, which had by now started and seemed to be some kind of indie rock, leaning closer to Yuri so that his voice could be heard.

"How do you figure? You've never even seen us interact."

Yuri shook his head, leaning in as well. "Because. That's just how she is."

And because it was _Flynn_, Yuri added mentally. If he liked him, Sodia definitely did. With the way that Flynn would be cheerful and kind to her, like he was with everyone, there was no way that Sodia wouldn't be majorly crushing. And while that meant her focus would be off of Yuri now, for some reason that wasn't as comforting as he thought it would be.

The conversation kind of trailed off there, with Flynn looking thoughtful and then gradually getting into the music. Well, he wasn't dancing around or singing, or anything, but he seemed to be enjoying it, nodding his head a little to the beat. Yuri wondered if this was a band he actually liked already, or just a random event he'd heard about.

It lasted for about an hour and was decent enough—Yuri had been slightly worried that he was being dragged to like, a violin concerto or something, though he should have had more faith in Flynn. Afterward, it was mutually decided that they would pick up some sandwiches at a nearby shop, and they drifted back over to the park to eat them. It was the middle of the city's annual Cherry Blossom Festival, and more tourists than usual milled around, taking pictures. The sun was starting to set, though, and the crowds began to thin out. The table where Yuri and Flynn were eating, and the space around it, was fairly isolated.

Yuri stood and threw away his crumpled sandwich wrapper. He and Flynn had talked a little while eating, just casual conversation about movies that were out or class assignments that were coming up. (Yeah, one guess on who started that one.) Walking a short distance away from the table, Yuri stretched his legs out on the grass. After a minute, he crooked his finger at Flynn, who was just finishing his own sandwich.

"C'mere," he said. "I need you for something."

Once Flynn had settled on the ground beside him, Yuri unceremoniously slid further down and sideways until his head rested on Flynn's leg. It wasn't like it was in his _lap_, exactly, but Flynn still made a sound of surprise, shifting a little. And hey, he didn't make a bad pillow. Yuri had opened his mouth to launch into a 'friends _totally_ do this all the time' speech, but eventually Flynn just shrugged and relaxed. The spring air felt nice, cool without being chilly, a breeze occasionally stirring across Yuri's clothes and skin. He closed his eyes.

He and Flynn didn't talk for a while, just sat there together, until apparently Flynn gave into temptation. Yuri smiled, eyes still closed, as fingers dragged through the hair near his scalp. It was pretty difficult not let out a hum of satisfaction; Yuri settled on a slow, deep breath, instead. Then, abruptly, Flynn's hand withdrew. Yuri frowned, darting a look up at him.

Flynn held his palm out, revealing a cherry blossom. "It fell into your hair," he explained, and let it drop onto Yuri's chest. Yuri picked it up between his thumb and forefinger, grinning.

"Aw, for me? I don't know what to say."

His grin only deepened as Flynn shoved lightly at his shoulder.

"You can just admit that you wanted to play with my hair," Yuri teased. He set the blossom on the grass beside him. "I mean, it _is_ kind of irresistible."

Flynn rolled his eyes.

"Come on. You know you want to."

"Peer pressure doesn't work on me, Yuri."

Of course it didn't. "Wouldn't dream of implying it," he said brightly. "Just encouraging something I know you already want to do. 'Cause I mean, I wouldn't mind…"

Yuri stilled his features and let his eyes close again, but was inwardly grinning manically a few moments later when he felt his hair shift, a hand stroking over it and pulling down through the long strands.

"How do you keep it so soft?" Flynn asked, sounding a bit mystified. "No offense, Yuri, but you don't seem like someone that has an extensive hair care regimen."

"Thanks," Yuri said, snorting. "Nah, nothing special. Good genes, I guess. Just store-brand shampoo." He sighed a little, turning his head into the fingers drawing through his hair, and scowled as Flynn pulled away again.

"Wait, I get it now. This is like, a _thing_ for you." Flynn smirked down at him smugly.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yuri, you look like you're about to start purring. No wonder you were so insistent." Flynn laughed as Yuri made a face (definitely _not_ a pout.)

"Well, don't _stop_," Yuri muttered, and Flynn chuckled softly. His hand resumed idly playing with Yuri's hair—they settled into another comfortable silence.

"Hey Flynn," Yuri asked sleepily, several minutes later. "What was your dad like?"

Above him, Flynn stiffened, eyes widening a fraction, and Yuri immediately regretted asking the question. It had just kind of slipped out.

"Uh, sorry, I shouldn't have…that was…"

"No," said Flynn, head bowed as he shook it. "It's fine. I mean, I should probably be able to talk to someone else about it that isn't paid to listen to me, right?"

He laughed a little, though stiffly, and Yuri responded with a tight smile. Therapists, huh. Another commonality between them, there—though Yuri was willing to bet that Flynn hadn't gone through nearly as many as he had. See, the thing about therapy was that for it to work, you had to be willing to talk through the problems, instead of staring at the therapist-du-jour sullenly until they sighed and dismissed you.

"My dad," Flynn began, staring at some point in space that only he could see, "was always so upbeat and positive. I mean—I guess not _always_, but in my memories of him, he's smiling and telling us that everything's going to be okay. You know?"

Yuri nodded but didn't say anything, waiting for Flynn to continue.

"And he put his all into everything he did. I guess, even now, I'm trying to catch up to him." Flynn laughed, though his eyes looked sad. "And he really loved my mom. I mean, obviously he loved me, too, but this was different. They were _so_ in love, Yuri. I remember when they'd leave me with a babysitter for the night, and I'd watch them come home, spying on them from the stairs…They'd be laughing and leaning on each other, just so…deliriously happy."

Flynn took a deep breath, slowly exhaled. Yuri watched his face carefully. Man, whoever ended up with this guy had a tough act to follow.

"I really miss him," Flynn said, quietly.

"Yeah." Yuri tried to put as much '_I understand'_ as he could into the single word. Flynn was still staring off into space, but Yuri's voice seemed to bring him back to the present.

"Heh, I'm crying," he said, as if surprised at the moisture he found leaking from his eyes, and swiped it away with the side of his hand. Under his breath, Flynn shakily muttered a curse word that Yuri hadn't been sure could come out of that goody-goody mouth of his. "Sorry."

"I think," Yuri said after a moment, "that's it's probably better to be able to do that sometimes." He thought about how little he had cried about his own parents, or anything else for that matter, compared to how much he actually felt.

Flynn snorted. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"Well, duh," said Yuri, grinning up at Flynn and receiving a shaky smile in return. "But that doesn't mean it isn't true."

Flynn's expression turned thoughtful as he considered this. Finally, he nodded.

"Yeah. What made you ask about that, anyway?"

Yuri shrugged minutely; that was a good question. "I just…wanted to know, I guess."

"Hm."

Fingers were running through his hair again; at one point in the process, the back of one brushed across his cheek, and Yuri shivered a little. Then he realized that was at least partly because it was getting kind of cold outside as the sky darkened.

"Probably should get going before we freeze," said Flynn, having apparently felt the shiver. Yuri moved from his leg, and they both stood and began walking toward the lot where they had parked their cars. Or at least, Yuri followed Flynn to his. It ended up being a couple of rows away from his own. They stopped behind it, realizing that this was where they parted ways for the night.

"So, uh," Yuri began. "That was fun. Thanks for inviting me."

See, he could be polite sometimes, too. Flynn looked over and smiled.

"Yes, it was," he agreed. "We should do something like this again some time."

"Definitely."

"Thanks, by the way," Flynn said. "You know, for listening, and not laughing at me for having, um, a bit of an emotional breakdown?"

"I was only laughing in here." Yuri tapped his own head, and dodged away as Flynn punched at his shoulder. "Kidding, kidding. Nah, it was no problem."

They stood there facing each other, hands dug into pockets to keep warm, shuffling a little. Flynn had already been smiling, but it turned a bit softer.

"You're a good friend," he said earnestly, and Yuri rolled his eyes, embarrassed. "No, you are. And I think you've earned this."

Flynn stepped forward and placed a hand on Yuri's arm, then tilted his head and kissed him. It was closed-mouthed and didn't last for more than a few seconds, but it was also soft and…the only other word that Yuri could come up with was 'sweet,' which was kind of sappy, but true. The weird thing was that this felt way more like a first kiss, as if the intense encounter in his dorm room when they had barely known each other didn't count at all. Yuri could feel his pulse speed up and by the time they separated, an airy tightness in his chest made it just a little hard to breathe.

Huh. That was different.

Those blue eyes were very close when Yuri opened his. Flynn pulled back and released his arm.

"Goodnight, Yuri," he said quietly, turning; he had already walked away before Yuri gathered his wits enough to say anything.

"So does that mean this _was_ a date?" he called to Flynn, who was in the process of unlocking the car. As it beeped and clicked, he turned his head, laughing a little.

"Good _night_, Yuri." Flynn waved a hand at him vaguely, then opened the door and slid inside. Yuri turned to head for his own car, grinning to himself. Oh, yeah. It totally was.

* * *

A/N: *smiles* (Did anyone guess right on what was going to be in the box? XD)


	8. Chapter 8

**8.**

In the back of Yuri's closet, gathering dust, was the unlikely sight of a neatly pressed and folded pair of black dress slacks, with a jacket to match. They had only been worn twice. Once for a job interview, and once for prom.

Yuri had been living with the Capels for about three years, and prom was (in Lori's words) one of those rites of passage that a person would always regret missing out on, no matter how indifferent to it he claimed to be. Thing was, though, Yuri wasn't exactly the rebel that tried to bring a guy as his date. As much as he wished he would have been—was pretty sure he _could_ be, since it wasn't like he cared what his classmates thought of him, or if the school tried to shut him down.

But this wasn't how he wanted to do it. Not when he was almost-but-not-quite eighteen, not when he actually liked this family. It was hearing them talk about the laws they didn't want to pass; offhand comments that were never hateful, but carried just a hint of judgment. So he put on those fancy clothes, picked up a girl from class that he was pretty sure wouldn't get the idea that this was going anywhere, and took what felt like ten thousand pictures.

He got through it—it wasn't really that big of a deal, despite the way Estelle stared at him the next day, as if constantly on the verge of asking if he was okay. It was just one dance. So it made his "lying by omission" about his orientation more of an "intentionally misleading" sort of thing, but that was pretty much inevitable anyway. Even so, memories of that night flooded back in with sharp and surprisingly bittersweet immediacy as Yuri drew the hanger out from its long-neglected hiding place.

Easter. One of the two days out of the year that Yuri would make the effort to go with the Capels to their church and—what did they call it? Darken the doorway? Yeah, that sounded ominous. It was this day and Christmas eve that the place was so full of strangers and out-of-town family members that they would be too distracted to pay much attention to him. See, when he'd first been placed with the family, Yuri had tried the every-Sunday thing. Even if he wasn't sure the whole idea was for him, it wasn't like it'd kill him to show a little family solidarity a couple hours out of the week.

And then he missed a couple times. A never-ending chorus of _we missed you last week, were you okay_s was followed not long after with _sure would love to see you at Sunday night service_… _we missed you on Wednesday_…_wish you had come with us on the summer camping trip_. They meant well—Yuri knew that—but he couldn't help but feel a little smothered. His foster parents had seemed disappointed when his attendance slackened down to practically nothing, but they didn't force the issue. Still, the holidays were especially important to them. Yuri could at least manage that much.

The pants still looked brand new, a sharp crease running down the outside of the legs and the color unfaded. Yuri slid them off the hanger and held them out to pull them on, hitched them up, made a face at the sight that greeted him in the mirror on the inside of his closet door. They were so not him.

_The air had a bite to it, left over from a particularly cold winter, and muffled music spilled out from the gym whenever the doors opened. Yuri leaned against the car, tilted his head up to look at the sky. Yesterday's storm had passed, leaving dark puddles of water in the parking lot but the stars uncovered and glittering brightly._

This wasn't exactly prom, so he wore a light blue dress shirt—yeah, he owned clothing that wasn't gray or brown or black, much as it would probably shock some people; he just didn't care to wear it very often—which hung unbuttoned off his shoulders. Yuri started at the top button and worked his way down. Once he got there, he realized he had missed a button somewhere and had to start over, rolling his eyes at himself. This was why he liked pull-over and zip-up stuff. Geez.

"_What're you looking at? Never seen another guy in a suit before?"_

"_Sure. Just not _you. _Sorry, I shouldn't laugh. But really_—_what kind of bet did you lose, Yuri?"_

"_Shut up."_

"_Hmm. Gladly."_

_They were blocked from view of the gym's double doors, so the chances of anyone seeing them were slim. Yuri couldn't help but mentally go over how long it would take his 'date' to use the restroom; she'd probably chat with her friends on the way out. This _was _a girl they were talking about, after all. Even if she missed him for a minute, he could always say he was getting something out of his car. It was just the chance of her wandering out here looking for him that made him a bit twitchy, despite the wonderfully distracting sensation of the mouth that was currently exploring his neck and jaw line._

The jacket was next; Yuri brushed off a few bits of lint and strands of hair from the last time he wore it, for that job interview that didn't pan out over the summer. Maybe he'd been _too_ formally dressed—a full suit seemed a bit much—but Lori had insisted it would give him an edge, and Yuri supposed it wouldn't be fair to blame it for the fact that they had never called him back. He pulled on the bottom of the sleeves, wondered if it was starting to get too small; it almost seemed tighter around his biceps, but considering he'd only been attending the kickboxing classes a few weeks, that had to be his imagination.

_Yuri turned his head away, tilting his chin down. _

"_I have to go." He gently pulled hands away that had slid beneath his suit jacket, settling at his waist. When he looked back up, the expression reflected back into his was one of dark disappointment._

"_Yeah. Of course you do."_

"_The hell is that supposed to mean?" Yuri backed up a little, crossed his arms. There was a long beat of silence, a heavy sigh._

"_I'm tired of sneaking around like this. That's what it means."_

_Yuri snorted._ "_What, you'd rather walk in there hand in hand or something? Give them something to talk about?"_

"_Sure. Why the hell not."_

_There was no good answer for that. So Yuri returned to the gym, music pounding in his ears; so he drank punch from a clear plastic cup; so he danced, everything but slow, with a girl he would get home well before curfew._

Yuri sank down onto the edge of his bed, drew a knee up to pull on his socks. He could smell a special breakfast that Lori was cooking in the kitchen, and let the scent chase away unwelcome memories.

* * *

Yuri had lost count of how many breath-squeezing hugs he'd experienced since walking into that church building that morning. He smiled and nodded through their exclamations over him, the endless "now, how is college?" questions. So much for being lost in the crowds. He always forgot how different Easter was compared to Christmas—not quite so many relatives, a slightly less cheery atmosphere. More reflective, or something. But the socializing was the same.

He spotted a familiar shock of orange-red hair across the room and tried to duck further in front of the latest church lady, but he was just too damn tall. Ugh. Sodia had turned her head and spotted him. And she did not look happy.

"Yuri Lowell."

Her voice snapped in that familiar bossy, superior tone, though Yuri had rarely (if ever) heard her use it on his name like that. The woman in front of him wisely scuttled away, leaving Yuri to face the wrath of Sodia.

"What's up?" he asked, hand propped on his hip. If anything, her glare only intensified.

"Stay away from Flynn Scifo," she said, each word falling with almost a tangible chill.

"Wow, Sodia. You don't pull any punches." Yuri smirked a little, shook his head. "And why should I do that?"

Sodia kept staring at him like she was trying to set him on fire.

"Flynn," she said shortly, "is everything that _you_ are not."

Ouch. "And that would be?"

"The list of your good qualities would be shorter."

Double ouch. Where was all this even coming from? Last Yuri had checked, she had been in the habit of staring at him for an entirely different reason. Flynn must have really made an impression.

"Think I'm gonna corrupt him, huh?"

Yuri really wasn't sure why he attempted to keep the mood light, because it only seemed to provoke the girl.

"He needs to focus," she continued, apparently deciding to ignore Yuri's statement, "and the last thing he needs is an association with a morally corrupt slacker like you. It could harm his reputation, and I will _not_ allow it."

"I think Flynn knows how to take care of himself," Yuri countered, crossing his arms. Man, Sodia had some nerve. He wondered how long she had been Flynn's tutoring student, and if she was really psychotic enough to think she had any kind of say as to who the guy could be _friends_ with.

With that, Sodia's eyes narrowed and she whipped around to stalk away from him, braided hair swinging at her shoulders. She looked back for half a second, mouth opening as if for some parting shot, then pursed her lips and disappeared back into the crowd.

Yuri slumped his shoulders and sighed, half amused but also annoyed by the redhead's confrontation. This could get old, fast. At least he didn't plan to be back over here for a while, and he didn't tend to run into Sodia on campus. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her—and clearly, there was a _lot_ she didn't know. He chuckled to himself, wondering if she'd spontaneously combust if she could know what had transpired between himself and Flynn just last night. That it had been her beloved Flynn who had made the move, in fact.

"—ri?"

His eyes slid over to see Karol staring up at him, forehead crinkled. The kid looked a little uncomfortable in dress pants and a collared shirt, a big change from the bright colors and baggy T-shirts that made up his everyday wardrobe.

"You looked kinda out of it; are you okay?"

Yuri's lips quirked at one corner. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said, ruffling the boy's hair for good measure. It had been combed carefully to one side that morning, and Karol made a face as he tried to straighten it. The action, combined with his own recent unpleasant encounter, reminded Yuri of something.

"Hey, have you seen Nan this morning?"

Karol flushed crimson at the name, bobbed his head jerkily as he scratched the back of his head. The younger girl had been forced into a dress for the occasion and looked about as happy with the wardrobe choice as Karol did with his—actually, the lemon-sour look on her face was much more dramatic.

"She looks so beautiful," Karol said, half-sighing the words. "Am I ever gonna be able to tell her that, Yuri? When does it get easier?"

Yuri snorted. Never, he wanted to say…but no need to sink the kid's spirits. There'd be plenty of time for that, and it was something that everyone had to go through and learn for themselves. Over and over, normally. Karol, at least, wouldn't have to worry nearly as much about whether the objects of his affection even _liked_ guys.

"I'm the wrong person to ask about that," Yuri said honestly. "I'll let you know when I figure it out, okay?"

A small smile appeared as Karol nodded once. "Got it. Oh, yeah! I almost forgot why I came to find you. We have to go into the other room."

"Why?" Yuri blinked as the boy wrapped a hand around his wrist, trying to tug him forward. "Woah, hang on, where are we going?"

Karol made a sound of mock exasperation, glancing back at him.

"Come on, Yuri. They have donuts!"

"Well, we can't pass up an opportunity like that," he said, laughing softly, and let Karol practically drag him out the door.

* * *

Algebra was kicking Yuri's ass. Normally, math was one of his better subjects—the rules were constant, straightforward, and he has always liked being able to tackle a problem head on—but something about this week's concept was too cerebral and convoluted, resulting in a fuzzy headache and a page covered in eraser shavings. It has been a long afternoon and the sun was beginning to cast an orangeish glow across his desk when he ducked into the kitchen to get a glass of water. As he passed the part of the hallway that opened onto the living room, Yuri heard Ken's voice, warm and mild, calling his name.

He was sitting on the couch next to Lori, her fingers wrapped within his own and resting on his knee. They had the lamp on beside them, its fluorescent circle of light competing with the setting sun. Lori looked up at Yuri and smiled, quick and tight.

"Why don't you sit down, honey?"

But Yuri, fingers curled around a half-filled water glass, opted to remain standing. He had sat before, for conversations that began like this one. Conversations that usually ended with things like _it's not your fault; you'll find the right fit; someone will be here to pick you up in the morning._

Except he's an adult now. Except there wouldn't be.

"Lori and I have been talking about this for a while, making all the arrangements, but first we needed to talk to you."

Ken looked over at Lori, as if for encouragement, and Yuri could see her subtly squeeze his hand. He nodded, but it was his wife that spoke next.

"Your foster service…it disbanded." At Yuri's forehead crinkling, she surged ahead quickly. "They moved your case, of course. It isn't like they would leave all those children without any kind of support. Not…not that _you're _a child anymore, I suppose."

"Why?" Yuri found himself asking. He hoped that his grip wasn't strong enough to break the glass in his hand—it was the only thing keeping it from slipping to the floor and shattering anyway.

"Hm? Oh, why did it disband? I'm not entirely sure."

"They didn't feel comfortable dealing with the gay couples," Ken supplied. "Since they're allowed to marry here now."

"Oh, that's right."

Now the glass really was in danger of being crushed. Yuri set it down on a table next to a nearby armchair, aware by the sloshing surface of the water that his hand had a slight tremor. He closed it into a fist at his side. _What does this have to do with me_, he wanted to ask. Instead, he stood there as stoically as he could manage. He had a lot of practice.

"Anyway," Lori continued with a tiny shake of her head, as if to clear her mind of such a distasteful topic, "the point is, it made us realize something."

Here her voice cracked a little, a shock to Yuri's system. Ken was rubbing her back with his free hand, his forehead almost pressed to hers.

"We didn't want to lose you," Lori finished brokenly. She dabbed at her eyes with a Kleenex she'd held, concealed and crumpled. Yuri shifted his weight from foot to foot, this conversation taking an unexpected turn. He had already begun mentally cataloging how best to pack his things away.

"What we're trying to say," said Ken, always the more direct of the pair, "is that we'd like to adopt you, Yuri. We'd thought about it earlier of course, but there were always setbacks and reasons for putting it off, and this was…well, kind of a wake-up call for us."

Yuri stared. The lamp had since become the main source of light, the rest of the room shrouded in blue-toned shadow. He was aware of their eyes on him, that he was supposed to be giving them an answer, maybe hugging them like a Hallmark moment of heartwarming familial unity.

"I think Karol is being bullied" was what he said instead.

There was stunned silence for a moment. Startled confusion on the couple's faces was quickly replaced with concern.

"Where did you hear that?" asked Lori. "Did you see it happen?"

Yuri shook his head, breathed out with an ease that he had not realized had been constricted before. "No, uh, someone from school told me. When I was volunteering there earlier this week."

No need to mention that his source was an antisocial sixth grader with possible pyromaniac tendencies. He'd looked her in the eye—and believed her.

"I'll have a talk with him," Lori said decisively.

"Maybe I should…"

"We both will."

The couple was now completely absorbed in each other, in the troubles of their son. Yuri almost didn't feel guilty as he crept out of the darkened room, glass of water forgotten and questions unanswered.

* * *

Yuri dreamed that he was drowning. There was no reason for this, no trauma or lingering fears from his childhood. He was the kid who jumped right off the diving board at swim lessons, laughed as he burst to the surface in the deep end while the others had to be coaxed, pale and shivering. But he woke up taking hungry gulps of air, pushed a curtain of hair away from his forehead, clammy with sweat. There were still images and sensations left over of thrashing, floating weightless. Breathing made impossible. He wanted to shake it off, so he did. Mostly.

He hadn't allowed himself to be alone with either foster parent since Sunday evening's conversation. Lori shot him concerned glances that he probably wasn't supposed to see while preparing dinner—Karol seemed subdued and worried. Normally that was Yuri's cue to drag him out to the treehouse for a pep talk, but he was too busy not-thinking about everything and finishing math homework made even more difficult to wrap his head around by the new developments. But the kid would make it through just fine. Yuri was confident of that.

By the time he fished his neglected cell phone out of his bag, Yuri had three missed calls and one worried _where r u?_ text message. Two of the calls were attached to voicemail, Estelle sounding a bit more frantic by the end of the second one. Ah, right. He had been supposed to call her last night. She tended to assume the worst when she didn't hear from people. Not having time for a long conversation before his first class, Yuri shot off an apologetic text that made his bag buzz with an immediate reply as he was heading out the door.

He turned in his algebra homework with an inward wince and shrug, knowing that even if enough of the answers were right by some miracle, it was probably pretty illegible. In Econ, Kaufman had given him an odd look when he slumped down into a chair, on time for once, but left him alone for most of her class. Everything was finished for the day and lunch rolled around before Yuri knew it. He couldn't remember a single thing any of his professors had said that morning.

Pizza, he thought, sounded amazing. Yuri was standing in line to order a slice at the food court when a sharp, quick tug on his hair—pulled back into a tail, and maybe _that _was why his teachers had been looking at him funny, since he'd put it up like that on a non-Thursday for reasons he no longer remembered—caused him to whirl around, hand flying to the back of his scalp automatically.

"…What the _f_—oh. It's just you."

Flynn stood behind him, arms crossed and smiling.

"Hmm," he said. "I'm trying to decide if I should be offended by that reaction."

Yuri shrugged. "Just meant that if I discovered anyone randomly pulling on my hair, I'd rather it be you. But don't think the other night means you can do whatever you want to it now," he finished, smirking.

Flynn quickly glanced over his shoulder, even though there wasn't anyone else nearby and the people ahead of Yuri in line didn't seem to be paying them any attention. And yeah, that _had_ sounded kind of ambiguous. Yuri hadn't even meant it to. Apparently he was just that good.

"Never did answer my question, by the way." Yuri jumped at the opportunity to pick up where they had left off on Saturday, smirk still in place, but Flynn pointed ahead of him.

"You're up," he said.

The food court worker managed to look bored and impatient at the same time, sliding a generous slice of pepperoni onto a paper plate. Yuri found a free table with two chairs, where Flynn joined him not long after.

"Thought you had a class at this time."

"Canceled." Flynn twirled a fork around the alfredo pasta that he had ordered, making a face at the congealed and greasy-looking sauce.

"That's why I always get the pizza. Crappy pizza is still pizza."

Flynn nodded, then looked thoughtful. "Isn't there some kind of analogy that goes like that…"

Yuri almost choked on a mouthful of bread and cheese. Yeah, there was. About sex, he was pretty sure. _Even when it's bad, it's still pretty good._ Cue Flynn blushing when he realized in three, two, one. And there we go.

"Hey, Flynn," Yuri said, because for some reason he wanted to divert the guy's embarrassment as quickly as he could. "I may need your help with something."

"Hm?" Blue eyes glanced up from where they'd been studiously examining the (mostly lewd) messages etched into the table. Yuri pressed on, realizing that he hadn't known where he was going with this when he brought it up. No going back now, though.

"Yeah, do you know where I can find a record of D.C. laws? I need to find out if something is legal."

The look of suspicion on Flynn's face was kind of hilarious, because he was obviously taking the motivation for the question completely wrong. "If you have to ask, then it's probably not, Yuri."

"Nah, nothing like that," Yuri said around a bite of pizza. He swallowed. "Uh, it's personal."

Flynn tilted his head, an amused smile quirking on his lips. "Says the guy who made me talk about something that no one but my mom and therapist have heard about since it happened."

"Right," Yuri said. "Okay, you've got a point there. But you _do_ know where I can find it, yeah?"

Flynn sighed, pushing the pasta around on his plate one last time before standing and tossing it in a nearby trash can. "Come with me."

'With me' ended up leading the pair to a familiar brown-brick building, LIBRARY emblazoned high on one side in metal letters. The _Theodore Hanks _Library, actually, but no one called it that. Yuri guessed that if you had a name that stuffy, there was nothing left to do but donate a bunch of money to a university and get a building named after you.

At any rate, Yuri hadn't been back here since that fateful meeting a few weeks ago—he'd dropped off his book through the slot, but hadn't gone inside. Not waiting to see if he was still being followed, Flynn turned right immediately upon entering and descended the stairs to the basement. Yuri coughed discreetly. The musty scent of old books was even stronger down here, mixing with stale air and dust. There were a few students milling around the copy machines, but the further Flynn wove through the seemingly endless rows of shelves, the more deserted the place became.

Flynn paused in the center of an aisle so abruptly that Yuri almost collided with his back. "Here we go," he said, sweeping a hand vaguely to indicate the bookshelf they were facing. Rows of identical volumes bound in black and red, golden writing on their spines flaking off a little on the oldest ones. _District of Columbia Code. Court Reports Annotated. Supplements. Cases. _Yuri ran his fingers along the raised letters, not having a clue where to begin. He tugged out one of the most recent _Code_ volumes and held the heavy book in one hand, opened it to the beginning hoping to find some kind of index.

"Looking for something in particular?" Flynn asked, watching him. "No offense, but even I can't make sense of those things yet, most of the time."

Yuri stared down into the volume's index, separated into sections like _Criminal Law and Procedure; Property; General Laws._ Maybe it would be buried in there somewhere. He didn't know, and didn't feel like wasting hours in this murky place digging for it. Sighing, he propped one hand on his hip and looked up at Flynn.

"Where would you find laws about adoption in this thing?"

Flynn's eyes were wide, considering him with a serious expression, but he wordlessly took the book from Yuri. Pages were flipped through quickly, large sections at a time, until he stopped, nodded, turned it around to hand it back.

"Here. All the information should be in this part."

It was in the _Judiciary and Judicial Procedure_ category, which Yuri wouldn't have guessed. 'Particular actions, proceedings and matters,' huh? Well, _that_ wasn't vague. Abruptly Yuri was gladder than he'd ever been that this wasn't his major of choice; he shot a sympathetic glance over at Flynn. Chapter three of that category, section…hmm. There was actually still a lot of information here. He flipped to something about 'persons' adopted, which simply stated that said person could be legally adopted regardless of whether they were an adult or a minor. Yuri chewed on his lip, flipped to the next page, which got _way_ more complicated. He scanned it quickly, finally alighting on a line that stood out.

_A person over eighteen years of age may be adopted, on the petition of the adopting parent or parents and with the consent of the prospective adoptee, if the court is satisfied that adoption should be granted._

For legal crap, that was surprisingly clear. As far as Yuri could tell, it was really up to his say-so. Huh. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting—that they hadn't done their research? That there was no way they'd allow a kid who'd been in the system just about his whole life to be legally folded into a family now that he was technically an adult? He tapped his fingers on his hipbone, realized after a minute that Flynn was still standing there patiently. Not intruding or asking questions. Yeah, Yuri knew there was a reason he'd wanted to hang around this guy.

"Got what you needed?"

"Yeah." Yuri pushed other volumes to the side and slid it back into place. Dusted off his hands. "Man, this place is doesn't get a lot of traffic, does it?"

"Mm. Not really. Can't say I come down here much, either. It's really just for people to find old records and copy them off for research, things like that."

Yuri grinned as a thought abruptly occurred to him. "You could probably do anything you wanted down here and no one would know. …Hey, I bet people _do_. All these dark, deserted corners. Ha."

"Gross, Yuri." Flynn arched a brow, turned as if to examine another boring row of books, hands in his pockets.

"Tch. You're no fun."

Even though Yuri couldn't see Flynn's face, he got the distinct impression that he was rolling his eyes at him. And then there was an arm sliding up around his neck, warm lips pressed against his—Yuri let his eyes flutter closed, not caring that he was pretty sure he'd just bumped the last fifty years of court reports, the row falling over noisily like dominoes. Flynn pulled back far too soon, began to step away but not before Yuri could yank him back in by his T-shirt. Nuh uh. This was going to be a _proper _kiss. Flynn made a surprised (yet pleased?) sound against his mouth, relaxed in his grip. When they separated a few seconds later, he was a bit flushed but smiling.

"So, pseudo-exhibitionist, check," said Flynn, sounding just a little out of breath. "Anything else I should know that you're not telling me?"

Yuri only laughed in reply, but the question struck him with surprising sharpness as they made their way back up to the library's main floor. And maybe, despite the playful tone, that had been intentional. Because there were plenty of things he was keeping from Flynn. The guy wasn't an idiot; it was obvious that he had been far more open about himself, that there had been unasked questions that Yuri kept avoiding.

The worst part was, for now he intended to keep it that way. The worst part was, he wasn't sure he knew any other way to be.

* * *

A/N: The foster services disbanding is based on truth, sadly. Was researching for this chapter and whether the Capels' plan to adopt Yuri even made sense legally when a Google search for "D.C. foster care" or some such thing brought up an article about the Catholic church in the city transferring dozens of foster cases and shutting down the service because they didn't want to deal with the newly-legally married gay couples that would want to participate. Grrr. This happened only a couple of weeks before this chapter is set. Truth is often stranger _and_ sadder than fiction.

Thanks so much for the reviews while this story has been on break, by the way! I've been reading them as they come but it was only recently that I realized how overwhelming the response really has been. :) I hope I've satisfied the non-signed reviewer's concern about the library being too small, haha. I've loosely based most of the layout and buildings of the college on the one I attended, just because it's easy to visualize and keep consistent, and my college's library had two stories and a basement.


	9. Chapter 9

**9.**

It's what you're supposed to want; the American dream, the status quo. A green yard with sprinklers to run through in the summer, a mom to make you brown-bagged peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with post-it notes designed to embarrass you in front of your friends. Maybe a dog, a set of annoying brothers and sisters. Yuri Lowell spent half of his childhood with everything except the siblings, the other half pretending that it didn't matter. He was the kid standing in the corner, smirking at the world, never allowing himself to get too sentimental about anything. Or anyone.

And that's why when the packet of papers appeared on the kitchen table the next weekend, signature lines marked with a bright red X, it was easiest to just keep up the act. Walk by them ten, twenty times, without really seeing them, like if Yuri ignored them for long enough, maybe they'd go away. It was nothing to do with Lori or Ken, and definitely not the kid. Just an act kept up so long that it felt like second-nature, and the fact that letting himself believe he could have this again was kind of completely terrifying. And if there was anything that Yuri really hated, it was what few things could scare him.

So he stuck with what he knew. Like his friends; like Flynn. They made sense. Not much changed that week. There wasn't any more kissing after the spontaneous library incident, and that was okay. He was supposed to go over to Flynn's house on Saturday—when most people said they could "study" together it was pretty obvious what they actually meant; trust Yuri to get the one guy that probably meant it literally.

But at the moment, it was still Friday afternoon and Yuri was in his room, definitely_ not_ hiding from said packet of unsigned paperwork and the questions he would get asked about them. It occurred to him that it was almost the end of the period to sign up for room assignments for next year—probably something he should have taken care of earlier, especially if he didn't want to get stuck with another Eric. Rooming with Flynn wasn't an option. If there was one thing he knew, it was how quickly you could start hating someone if you lived with them. Just because they were both guys and could use that loophole to do so, didn't make cohabitation a good idea at this point.

Pulling up the website while musing about this, it took Yuri a second to realize why clicking on the "request a room" link wasn't quite working like he expected. Instead of taking him to the screen that showed all the different housing options and asking him to give his top preferences, there was a block of text informing him that...

"What the—" Yuri muttered, scrolling down and then back up again to make sure he was signed into his account. Which, as far as he could tell, he was.

So why was it telling him that someone had already requested him as a roommate? It was asking for his approval or rejection of said request before letting him go to the next page. He squinted at the laptop screen, clicked on the link that said "more details," hoping that it might clear some things up. Yuri couldn't think of any classmates who would randomly decide to room with him without even talking to him about it first, though he supposed it was possible. People could be weird like that.

...But who the hell was Damien Nomos?

There was a school e-mail address there, but Yuri decided to try looking him up on Facebook first to see if he recognized the guy. But he didn't have one. Okay, then. E-mail, it was.

_To: Damien Nomos (dlnomos)_

_Sent: Fri 4/09/10 5:37 PM_

_From: Yuri Lowell (yclowell)_

_Look, don't take this the wrong way but: who the hell _are_ you? My account says you requested me as a roommate, which I guess means you know me somehow, but the name's not ringing a bell, man. So, yeah. I need to get my room assignment but I'm not giving this the okay without having some idea who you are._

_Yuri_

Shaking his head, he pressed send and sat back to wait, pulling out some math homework to finish in the meantime. It was only about ten minutes later when his account popped up with new mail.

_To: Yuri Lowell (yclowell)_

_Sent: Fri 4/09/10 5:49 PM_

_From: Damien Nomos (dlnomos)_

_I apologize for the confusion. The request was made rashly, an emotional response that runs contrary to my nature. This is the only explanation that I can offer; my reasons are my own. However, I believe it would be a beneficial arrangement, if my understanding of your current living situation is correct. Rest assured that I seek no further involvement in your life than this._

_- Duke_

Yuri looked the e-mail over again, making sure they he'd read it right. The way that Duke wrote, elegant and with every word in its place, almost made his request seem perfectly reasonable. Until Yuri realized that wait, no, it still made no sense whatsoever. Emotional response? What was that about? Was the guy _trying_ to be as mysterious and vague as possible?

So, Mr. "Humans Are Not to Be Trusted" wanted to room with him. Yuri wasn't sure whether he should be flattered or creeped out. Still, it seemed like he knew about Eric (somehow) and wanted to help him (for some reason). Better than chancing it with another homophobe, maybe someone even worse. Yuri shrugged and pressed "accept," hoping this decision wouldn't come back and bite him in the ass.

* * *

Yuri arrived at Flynn's house, English homework in hand—might as well take advantage of the guy's expertise—and this time was greeted by Flynn himself at the door. He craned his neck to look around the entryway and the kitchen.

"Your mom here?"

Flynn smiled a little. "Nice to see you too, Yuri. Yeah, I think she's in the garage or something."

Yuri nodded vaguely in response. He moved out of the way as Flynn shut the door behind him.

"So did you want anything to—wait, where are you going?"

Already halfway up the stairs, Yuri turned his head, hand resting on the banister. "Aren't we going to study in your room?"

Flynn's forehead wrinkled a little. "Well... I guess so."

"Great. So there's no problem, then," said Yuri, continuing up the stairs. Flynn caught up with him as he stood in the hallway, hands on hips. "You're gonna have to tell me which one's yours, though."

"Second on the left," said Flynn, a note of laughter in his voice. The door was already cracked open, so Yuri bumped it with his shoulder and stepped inside, Flynn not far behind.

He took in details quickly. Meticulously clean and organized, of course. A tall shelf stuffed with books was the closest that anything in the room came to being "messy." There was a writing desk in one corner with a closed laptop and a neat stack of textbooks beside it. Lots of blue. Yuri slung his bag off his shoulder and let it drop onto Flynn's bed. And then let himself drop down next to it, feet on the floor and arms spread wide on the dark blue bedspread.

"Comfy. I approve."

He closed his eyes and could hear Flynn snort, the door click shut. Flynn crossed the room and began shuffling through some notes on his desk; his gaze darted over to Yuri as he pushed himself up into a seated position. As their eyes met, he smirked and patted a space on the bed next to him. Flynn arched a brow and hesitated for a second, then shook his head, smiling, as he crossed to the bed and sank down onto it.

"We _are_ here to study," he said. Yuri nodded in what he thought was a very serious manner. "I want to get a head start before finals in a couple of weeks."

"Uh huh."

"Right. Just wanted to make myself clear."

"Got it."

Yuri met Flynn halfway—his lips were warm and dry, and Yuri allowed a few seconds to linger there before they both pulled back a fraction, changing the angle slightly before meeting again. He was satisfied to allow Flynn to set their pace, soft and slow like this; it was kind of shockingly intimate, the way their mouths collided lazily, broken only by the occasional, quickly-drawn breath. Flynn's tongue darted out to brush lightly along Yuri's lips, sending a shudder down his back that settled as heat low in his belly. His breath hitched involuntarily—Flynn had his hand splayed at Yuri's lower back, and the way they were kissing, it was almost as if...

Yuri pulled away from Flynn and the bed, scrambling to his feet and turning toward the window as he carded his fingers over the top of his head and down through the long strands. His heart was pounding in a way that seemed like it should be audible; he took in a long breath and let it out.

"Are you okay?" Obvious concern crept into Flynn's voice, but Yuri didn't look at him.

"Yeah." He swallowed. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just, uh...I suddenly remembered something that I forgot to do. But it's fine."

To Yuri, his lie was completely transparent, but what was he supposed to say? Oh, sorry, I was kind of having a freak out over the fact that our kissing and stuff might have the beginnings of actual _feelings_ behind it. Yeah, no.

"Okay." Flynn sounded understandably skeptical, but there was nothing Yuri could do about that. He turned back to face him, mouth quirking in what he hoped was a relatively convincing attempt at normalcy. That was the best he could do at the moment for reassurance—his heart was still racing a mile a minute, and the attempt to will his mind blank was kind of dizzying.

The sudden rap of knuckles at Flynn's door didn't help.

"Flynn, honey? I have some of your laundry; am I going to be embarrassed if I come in?"

Still seated on the edge of the bed, Flynn cleared his throat, cheeks reddening slightly.

"No, um... it's alright, you can come in."

Yuri arched a brow at Flynn, wondering if his mother just had a keen sense of intuition or if there had been _conversations_ regarding him. Flynn did seem like the kind of guy who would be close to his mom, especially since she was all he had left.

The mother in question opened the door and poked her head in—apparently determining that all was well, Rebecca shouldered the door open further, arms circling a laundry basket piled high with clothing. Wordlessly, she set it down at the foot of the bed; when a few of the neatly folded items (they really _did_ fold his socks) began to topple, she quickly reached out and steadied the pile.

"There," she said breezily. "Don't mind me. I was never here."

Flynn nodded mutely, looking a bit mortified. Ah, the power of parents and guardians' ability to embarrass like no other. Yuri, at least, managed to be pretty much immune to it. And really, it could have been much worse. Rebecca smiled at both of them before disappearing back out the door, though he noticed she didn't bother shutting it.

"Right," said Flynn, after about a minute of silence had passed. "So we should probably get to studying, then."

This time, Yuri wasn't about to argue.

* * *

"I'm not sure that this metaphor works here; maybe if you tried—"

"Flynn."

"Hm?"

"Is this essay good enough to get me a B, as is?"

"...Well. Probably. I don't really know the professor's standards of—"

"Then great."

"Yuri, you could get a better grade if you just worked on it a little harder."

"Yeah, I'm sure I could. But I don't really care to. Besides, getting a B in English is practically a tradition for me at this point. Don't want my professors to pass out from shock, do you?"

"...I just think you're selling yourself short."

"Whatever."

"I mean it. There's potential there, but you just let yourself get complacent. You're better than that, Yuri."

"Okay, _mother._"

"Very funny—wait, when did the door close? Did you...?"

"Yep. I'm a ninja."

"Pfft. Says the guy who dropped out of karate class."

"..."

"...Sorry. ...I didn't mean to—_ah,_ hey!"

"Ohh, so you're ticklish there?"

"Y-yes. Geez, Yuri. You do realize my mom could come back at any time?"

"Uh. The door may also be locked."

"...Right, because that's not suspicious."

"Whatever, we're not even doing anything. Fully clothed and everything."

"Except for the part where your hand is halfway up my shirt."

"Not even. You're exaggerating. _This_ would be—"

"_Yuri._"

"Okay, okay. Backing off."

"Thank you."

"...Prude."

"Mom downstairs."

"Excuses."

"_Studying._"

"Uh huh."

"...I really should have known that inviting you over would be a bad idea."

* * *

"So," Estelle coaxed, leaning forward with her hands on her knees, "does this mean that you two are dating now?"

It was Sunday afternoon, and Estelle (through no small amount of begging and cajoling) had convinced Yuri to brave the privileged halls of her parents' estate. Estelle's bedroom was easily twice and maybe half again as big as his own, and definitely more flashy. A large window framed by heavy, elaborate curtains looked down from the second story to the perfectly clipped lawn. Inside, the room was decked out with a queen-sized canopy bed and several comfy chairs, top of the line entertainment and stereo systems, everything painted and draped with soft feminine colors that screamed 'Estelle.' (Amusing to Yuri was the fact that with all the technological possessions that her parents lavished upon her, Estelle's favorite thing to do was curl up with a book that was well-worn and thumbed through, cracks along its spine.)

Yuri spread his hands, shrugging vaguely. "I don't know. Too soon to say."

Estelle's blue-green eyes widened a bit, as if she was trying to comprehend this response. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. A rich chuckle from the other side of the room drew her attention, where Judy lounged on a window seat, its pink satin cushions striped with sun.

"Oh, don't bother, Estelle. Boys. It's even worse when there's two of them." Judy waved a dismissive hand through the air. "Besides, Yuri isn't exactly the hopeless-romantic type."

"Hey, I'm right here, you know."

"But I'm right, aren't I?"

Yuri shrugged again, watched a gardener make his way across the deep green lawn below. That had to cost a ton of money, keeping it like that year-round. Not like Estelle's family couldn't afford it, though. Vaguely aware that someone was saying something to him, Yuri hummed noncommittally.

"...Are you even listening? Yuri, are you feeling alright?"

"Hmm, but doesn't he always act like this?"

"I guess..."

Yuri blinked, slid his gaze back over just as a small decorative pillow bounced off the side of his face. He spluttered and threw it back at Judy, who arched a brow at him as if she had nothing to do with it.

"If you had actually been listening, Yuri Lowell," she said, picking the pillow up off the ground and putting it back in its place, "then you would know that Estelle desires our support in a personal dilemma."

"Oh. Well, let's hear it then."

"Again," Judith added airily.

"Yeah, yeah."

Estelle's dilemma, it turned out, mainly had to do with pressure from her classmates to run for sophomore president.

"I don't know if I'm _ready_ for that kind of responsibility, you know?" Estelle picked at the side of a nail nervously. "I'm…I'm not a natural leader, like Ioder is. He's going to be an _amazing_ junior president; I bet he'll even be valedictorian next year."

Yuri hid a cough, drawing an amused glance from Judy but escaping Estelle's notice. Where _was_ that kid, anyway? The exchange student had been living with Estelle's family while attending high school in the States, and a quiet confidence combined with the fact that his English was even better than most of his fellow classmateshad helped him fit in with enviable ease. Yuri hadn't seen him since he'd graduated, though—at home, Ioder tended to keep to himself.

Judy cleared her throat, shaking Yuri back into the present.

"Uh, right. You should do whatever makes you happiest, Estelle. I think you'd make a great class president, but if it stresses you out too much then it's not worth it."

"Hmm." Estelle bit her lip, staring down at the hands resting in her lap. "But one day, I might be expected to take over my family's company. I should be practicing for that, right?"

"I can't say I know anything about this," said Yuri, "but I thought the days of children having to take over their parents' businesses were pretty much over. It's your life. What do _you_ want to do with it?"

Estelle blinked at him, as if this had never occurred to her before. "I…"

"Figure that out first." Advice that he still needed to apply to himself, too. Undeclared only took you so far. "And if your parents ever give you crap about it, you know that we've got your back—oof."

Without warning, Estelle had launched herself across the bed and wound her arms tightly around Yuri. He patted her on the back lightly before she allowed him to regain full control of his limbs, smiling despite himself.

"Yeah, okay. You're welcome, Estelle."

She settled back, beaming.

"So," said Judy, "that's settled, then. What should we do now?"

A bright look came over Estelle's eyes that Yuri had come to recognize, and he couldn't help letting out a soft groan. That was definitely her 'let's-go-shopping' face. Yuri knew that Estelle's parents probably wished he was the kind of gay best friend that dressed a bit more stylishly, the kind that would go along with Estelle when she wanted to go spend some of her not-inconsiderable allowance. As it stood, Estelle's current mall companion was Judy, who had many times tried without success to coax Yuri into coming along with them. He knew he'd just end up lugging bags around and waiting outside of dressing room stalls. No thanks. (And as for the parents' opinion of _Judy_, well—there was a reason Estelle's hair was currently a shade of pink just this side of bubblegum. Still, he figured they were probably relieved that the extent of their daughter's teenage rebellion came in the form of hair dye.)

"Yeah, I'll pass."

"But I haven't even said anything yet!"

"Didn't have to, Estelle. Enjoy the mall. Eat a pretzel for me, or something."

"O-okay. But...wait, how did you—"

"Uh huh. That's what I thought."

* * *

After a weekend of successfully avoiding the Paperwork-Which-Shall-Not-Be-Named, Yuri was almost eager to be back on campus for another week of classes. Which was, you know, definitely not normal. Still, it meant that he woke up on Monday morning not hating the world quite as much, and so he was sitting in his usual spot in Kaufman's class _before_ she breezed through the door. And slammed it.

About twenty-five heads were jolted up out of whatever they had been doing, whether it be doodling on their notes or staring boredly out the window. They watched Kaufman stalk to her podium, where she dropped her bag with an audible _thump_. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, took a breath and smiled at them with exaggerated sweetness. The classroom's awkward silence was almost tangible, not even the usual odd cough or rustling of papers.

"Equilibrium," said Kaufman, turning to pick up a marker for the dry-erase board, and Yuri's eyes narrowed. This professor definitely wasn't the type to be easily ruffled, especially not in a way that would be so obvious to her students, so something pretty bad must have happened. She spent most of the class period facing the board, tension obvious in her shoulders and vise-like grip on the marker. There was a practiced lightness to her voice, clipped and professional, but lacking her usual sarcasm and playfulness. Anyone who had spent much time around her could see through the act. But hey, maybe she _wanted_ them to know that she was angry about something. It was impossible to say.

Without Kaufman's trademark sass, the class dragged on like...well, like most normal Economics classes probably did. It was actually kind of a relief, then, when the lecture wrapped up and Kaufman began to gather her things.

"I'd like you to read the next assigned chapter for your homework," she said briskly. Her thin, stylish glasses were sliding to the end of her nose as she looked down at the podium, shuffling papers into a pile. "Answer the odd-numbered questions. I'll see you on Wednesday."

The speculation began almost immediately as the class spilled out into the hallway, Kaufman already long gone. All obvious, stupid stuff. A messy end to a relationship, or at the very least a lovers' spat. Yuri snorted and didn't stay to listen. He seriously doubted that something like that would make Kaufman's composure break in front of her students, and anyway, if they were meant to know, then they would find out soon enough. There wasn't enough evidence—or _any_, really—to go on. Yuri was curious, but there was no point dwelling on the hypothetical.

The rest of the day's classes passed without incident. The English professor kept reminding everyone, with the weariness of a man who had seen far too many students procrastinate over the years, to stay on top of their final essay projects. Yuri wasn't too worried. He was actually ahead of where he'd expected to be at this point, thanks to Flynn.

Yuri had a shift at the coffee shop that afternoon; his coworker was this short guy who preferred to be called by his last name. Witcher's nerdiness put Flynn's to shame—Yuri had seen him in the student lounge several times playing some kind of magical card game with a group of guys who looked equally socially awkward. Fortunately, he didn't want to socialize with Yuri any more than Yuri wanted to socialize with him. But unlike some of the girls, who spent more time giggling at text messages than making cappuccinos, he did actually do his job. So they pretty much tolerated each other.

Witcher was weighing out and grinding the roasted coffee beans for the next morning in one corner of the area behind the counter; there were customers scattered about the shop, studying or deep in quiet conversation, but no one had stepped up to the counter in several minutes. It was already dark outside the big windows that faced the courtyard, had been for a while in fact. It wasn't long until Yuri's shift ended. He was already plotting all of the glorious _nothing_ that he was going to do when he got back to his dorm room as he closed out his register, half of his mind on counting out the money and making sure it balanced.

"Later," Yuri muttered over his shoulder, as he loosened the knot of his apron and pulled the loop over his head. He thought Witcher might have grunted some equally casual goodbye, but it was swallowed by the coffee grinder's noise. Yuri headed for the exit, but the door jangled violently as it was thrown open before he got there.

Flynn held it open with one arm, breathing heavily as if he had sprinted all the way there from somewhere. Everything about him looked a bit askew, from the way his collared shirt was half untucked to the long, tousled hair that almost covered his reading glasses, perched crookedly on his nose. In most circumstances, Yuri would probably have found it kind of sexy (especially on a neat-freak like Flynn), but the wide-eyed, troubled expression directed at him made him think twice.

"Yuri," Flynn finally said, breathless and quiet enough that he had to step closer. "I've discovered something horrible. And I think I need your help."

* * *

A/N: Whee, update. I hope you enjoyed it, and that you've all been having a good holiday season. Happy New Year!


	10. Chapter 10

**10.**

Before Yuri could really register what was happening, they'd crossed campus and Flynn was ushering him into his dorm room. This was technically the first time Yuri had been in here, and the scenario wasn't exactly how he'd imagined it. The first thing he noticed was how just about every available surface was covered with open books and loose papers, some of them crumpled up. Completely anti-Flynn, in other words. Yuri would think it was his absent roommate's side of the room if it weren't for the fact that the other side didn't really have the type of stuff that Flynn liked. (And since when was he an expert on that, anyway?)

"Alright, what's this about?" Yuri asked—for something like the thirteenth time, actually, but Flynn hadn't said a word since he burst into the coffee shop.

In response, Flynn dug through the haphazard pile of books on his bed, pulling out a volume that had a neon orange Post-It note stuck out of the top and flipping open to it. He turned the book around and stuck it under Yuri's nose, watching him expectantly as he scanned the pages.

"Uh. I don't know if I need to remind you, but _I'm_ not majoring in law." Yuri pushed the book down gently with the tips of his fingers, meeting Flynn's eyes. Flynn let out a breath that was something between impatience and distress, closed the book and let it fall back among the others.

"My World History professor is being let go. He won't be back next year," he finally said, blue eyes steely, dangerous. Yuri blinked.

"I'm…uh. Sorry?"

"Neither will my Psychology professor."

"Uh."

"And," said Flynn, pacing across the room toward his desk and picking up a piece of paper covered with handwriting much messier than his usual, "it's not just my professors. I've come up with a list of at least a dozen more at this university that have been fired in the past month."

Okay, so that definitely didn't sound normal. Yuri raised an eyebrow as he read the list that had been handed to him. He tapped his free hand idly against his hip, noticing that the professors were spread out pretty much evenly among the university's programs and subjects. Everything from physics to elementary education to women's studies.

"So," he finally said, "any idea what this all means?"

Flynn made a noise that sounded kind of frustrated in the back of his throat.

"If I knew that—"

"You wouldn't need my help. Gotcha." He handed the paper back, which Flynn set carefully on his desk, away from most of the mess. "Well, what do we know so far? Do they have anything in common?"

"Not that I've been able to figure out so far," said Flynn, shaking his head. Yuri wondered how long it had taken Flynn to put together this information, how many hours he'd already spent poring over the books that threatened to spill off of his narrow college-issue twin bed. On a more thorough glance, there were an awful lot of Post-Its, a rainbow (if rainbows came in only bright yellow, orange, pink and green) of scribbled-on papers peeking out between the pages.

"…Man, have you been sleeping at all?" Yuri peered at his face, reaching out to poke at the dark circles that his glasses frames perched on top of. His hand was batted away, though not with much irritation.

"I'm fine." And if Flynn's eyes (which were definitely bloodshot, by the way) blinked a bit too much, Yuri wasn't going to call him on it. He shrugged.

"If you say so. Okay, so we know that a whole bunch of professors are getting the axe, but have no idea why them or why now. What's the next step?"

It occurred to Yuri that it might be a little strange that he was immediately willing to help Flynn with this. It wasn't like he was particularly attached to most of his professors, Kaufman being the obvious exception. And even with her, he was far from being teacher's pet. He wasn't as concerned and outraged as Flynn obviously was, but also had to admit that it presented a sort of mystery, a challenge. And that was more up his alley.

Flynn rubbed a hand across his eyes, another betrayal of his fatigue. "I know I'm just a pre-law student, but I have this gut feeling that something's very wrong about this. And I can't sit here and let people that I _know_ are good teachers lose their jobs. So…somehow I have to figure out if something illegal's going on. I doubt the administration would simply answer my questions about it. I'm probably not even supposed to know that more than a couple of the professors are on their way out at most."

He exhaled. "For now, I can't think of anything to do except more research. I feel like I've already looked at every law volume in the library…"

"Yeah, well you're wrong about one thing already."

Flynn looked up, eyes questioning.

"_We_ are going to figure out if something's going on." Yuri stretched his arms behind his back and cracked a yawn. "But first…"

Hands on hips, Yuri considered the situation in front of him for a moment. Then he leaned forward, scooping up an armful of Post-It adorned law books and depositing them on the floor.

"…What are you doing?" said Flynn, forehead wrinkling a little. And hey, Yuri thought that he deserved points for not just sweeping them all off onto the floor in one go. He picked up more books, and some of the more precariously stacked started sliding off the comforter. Flynn bent down to stop their descent, eyes flashing up at him in slightly irritated confusion.

"You're not making it better, you know."

Yuri rolled his eyes as he set more books on top of the others. "Mess on the bed, mess on the floor, does it matter?"

Flynn opened his mouth as if he had an answer to that rhetorical question, but Yuri didn't give him time to say anything. With the last of the pile cleared away, he flopped down onto the bed, fluffing one of the pillows behind him and lacing his fingers together behind his head.

"What—"

"Hey, I just worked my ass off at the coffee shop for four and a half hours. We can't do anything about the professor thing right this second, yeah? I don't know about you, but sleep sounds pretty awesome right now."

"Yuri…"

"Nap first, investigation later. Now c'mere."

Yuri tugged at the shirt-tail that was just barely within his reach, not really expecting Flynn to do anything except maybe complain about his laziness. So it was kind of surprising when Flynn slid down next to him, poking him in the ribs to get him to scoot over. The bed wasn't exactly designed for double occupancy, certainly not two lanky eighteen-year-old boys, so Yuri turned over onto his side, chuckling as Flynn's eyes flicked over to look at him.

"What?"

Instead of responding, Yuri plucked Flynn's reading glasses off his nose by the bridge, sliding them off and reaching over him to set them on the nightstand.

"…Oh."

"Haha, you totally forgot you were wearing them. Dork."

"Shut up."

But Flynn's mouth was turned up in one corner even as he rolled his eyes, messy bangs half-covering them. Yuri was struck with the sudden urge to reach out and brush them away; his fingers twitched. This impulse seemed less dangerous than the others that flashed through his mind as Flynn twisted around and mirrored his position, facing away from Yuri. To scoot forward, drape an arm across his chest, press his face into the hair at the back of Flynn's neck. To reach for his shoulder and pull him back down, lean over him and kiss him breathless.

Just because he kind of wanted to do those things, didn't mean he should. Not when he knew that it probably meant something, something he didn't want to think about yet.

He closed his eyes.

* * *

It was a weird feeling, waking up in the almost-darkness of twilight and taking in his surroundings blearily. Right. Flynn's dorm room. He was still on top of the neatly made bed, and Flynn…

At some point, Flynn had twisted around to face him again—his eyes were closed and each even breath puffed on Yuri's cheek. One of his legs was thrown over Yuri's at the ankle, and his right hand lay open and relaxed between them. Unable to resist, Yuri poked lightly at one of Flynn's curled fingers—his hand twitched, then his eyes blinked open. Yuri could read the same brief disorientation in them.

"Mm," said Flynn, still blinking. He pulled his hand up and rubbed at his face. "What time is it?"

Apparently the question wasn't one that he expected Yuri to answer, because Flynn craned his neck to look at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

"Hmm, slept a lot longer than I thought."

"Probably needed it."

"Maybe." Flynn sounded dubious, as if the biological necessity of sleep was in question. Which was pretty ridiculous. Yuri was a big fan of sleep, himself. In fact, he wouldn't mind a little more.

"Yuri."

He opened his eyes halfway from where they'd been drifting shut, made a vague sound of acknowledgement.

"I still need to study for a test tonight. I'm behind already because of all the time spent trying to figure out what's going on with the professors."

"Mm, no you don't."

"I kind of do. It's worth a large portion of my grade, and…"

Yuri rolled his eyes. "Have you ever _not_ gotten an A, Flynn? You should really try it some time. Could be liberating, or something."

"Yuri…"

"Hey, I mean it. Take it easy."

Eyes still half-lidded, he slid an arm around Flynn's back; he stiffened briefly in surprise, then relaxed into it. Yuri kissed the corner of his mouth, trailed along his jaw line, lips pressed to the pulse point there. He was moving up to Flynn's ear when a cleared throat made his eyes snap open.

On the opposite side of the room, at a desk in the corner diagonal from Flynn's bed, was what Yuri could only assume was his roommate.

The guy grinned in a friendly but sheepish way, scratching at his short beard. He looked kind of preppy with his plaid button-down and khakis, but not the douchey kind. Probably.

"Hey, uh. Sorry. I just…didn't think you were aware you had an audience. I'm Kyle, by the way. Flynn's roommate, but you probably guessed that. I probably should've left when I noticed you guys in here, but I mean, you were just sleeping and looked really peaceful so I didn't want to, um… yeah. Sorry."

He laughed, rubbing at the back of his neck now. Flynn had already sat up by this point, had done so just about as soon as Kyle had announced his presence. Yuri noticed that he didn't move away from him, but he did run fingers through his hair in an attempt to neaten it, blushing so hard that his ears were red.

"Nah, it's cool. I'm Yuri." He lazily raised a hand in greeting, getting a nod from Kyle in return. "Anyway, I should probably head out and let this guy do his studious thing…"

It wasn't that Kyle being there really bothered him; not that he was about to make out with Flynn in front of him or anything, but Yuri wasn't particularly embarrassed. But Flynn already seemed flustered and the situation could only get more awkward from here. So making as graceful an escape as possible seemed to be the best option.

"Alright, see you around, man." Another nod from Kyle, the signature head-jerk of casual male acknowledgement. Yuri headed for the door and when he turned to say something to Flynn, he found that he had followed him. They both exited the room, letting the door click shut behind them.

"So…this is like a theme for us, or something," Yuri said wryly, after a beat of silence. A smile curved on Flynn's mouth; he huffed a laugh.

"Apparently."

"Your roommate seems cool, though. Y'know, minus the whole voyeur thing." That got him a look. "Oh come on, I'm kidding. Nah, you're pretty lucky. He didn't seem bothered at all by, you know…"

Flynn nodded. "I knew Kyle from high school. We were never extremely close or anything, but he's a good guy. Open-minded."

Yuri briefly thought of his own roommate, who still barricaded himself into his side of the room at night, still went out of his way to skirt around him whenever they passed each other on campus. Nice to find someone that was on the opposite side of things.

"Alright." Yuri clapped Flynn on the shoulder. "Where do you want to go for dinner?"

Flynn just looked at him, clearly confused. "I only came to see you out. I still have to—"

"Uh-uh. I'm hungry, and know for a fact that you haven't eaten either. In fact, I doubt you've even had lunch." Yuri raised an eyebrow, challenging him to deny it. When Flynn said nothing, only lowered his head and sighed, Yuri took him by the arm and started down the hall. He thought he could hear Flynn muttering to himself, something about how Yuri was going to be the death of him one day.

* * *

Flynn drove, mainly because his car was parked closer. It was probably the cleanest car that Yuri had ever ridden in, without a single balled-up napkin or fast food wrapper littering the floorboards. And stick-shift, because it wasn't like Flynn could even do something as simple as driving without that somehow being a challenge, too. He didn't seem to understand Yuri's grin and eye roll as he took this detail in while sliding into the passenger seat.

The burger place just off campus was crowded and noisy; they practically had to yell for their order to be heard by the guy behind the counter. They shuffled out of a constant stream of people's way while waiting for their food—Yuri looked around, and when he didn't see any tables opening up he leaned in close to Flynn's ear.

"I don't think eating here is gonna work—let's drive back to the dorms, I have an idea."

The plain white bag, rolled at the top and spotted with grease, sat in Yuri's lap as they headed back. Despite it being shut, promising scents filled the car, making Yuri's stomach complain and Flynn's eyes flick over in amusement.

"Okay, stop in front of my dorm hall."

Surprisingly, Flynn didn't ask questions as they ascended the stairs. Not even when they passed Yuri's door and kept going. It was only when they reached the utility access and Yuri started jimmying the lock that Flynn's rule-abiding nature snapped into action.

"What are you doing? That's university private property, we can't break in." Flynn's voiced dropped into a hushed but frantic tone, looking over his shoulder as if campus police would immediately sense what they were doing and show up at any second.

"Relax, I do this all the time."

"Somehow that's not comforting, Yuri."

The lock finally caught and Yuri ushered Flynn through the door with a smirk and a flourish. Flynn frowned at him and didn't move.

"Come on, our food's gonna get cold." Yuri sighed as Flynn continued to look at him dubiously, shook his head. "Look, if we get in trouble—which isn't going to happen—this was my idea, alright? I'm a terrible, terrible influence."

"Damn right you are," Flynn muttered, but shouldered past him into the closet. He followed closely behind Yuri as he navigated through the small, dark room toward the stairs that he knew were on the other side.

Yuri's luck was with him. The rooftop was empty, a light breeze blowing across to cut through the heat of a spring night that was just this side of balmy. He grinned back at Flynn, who was still looking at him like he was sure that he would come to regret this decision. And in that case, Yuri would just have to prove him wrong.

"Nice, right? Hardly anyone ever comes up here."

"Because they're not _supposed_ to," Flynn pointed out. Yuri made a dismissive noise, waving his free hand as if to brush the argument away. Still carrying the paper bag containing their dinner, he crossed to the far side and slid down to sit with his back against the low wall, legs stretched out in front of him.

"Coming?" he asked lightly, pulling the paper-wrapped burgers out of the bag. Digging around for the fry containers next, he smirked down at his lap as Flynn sat next to him, sighing a bit defeatedly. He set a plastic bag of bottled drinks between them, held his hand out for a burger and started to unwrap it. For a while, the crinkling paper was the only sound other than the distant, low roar of cars on the street behind the dorm buildings. Yuri thought he could hear some frogs in the distance. But maybe it too early for that.

The hiss of escaping carbonation as Yuri untwisted the cap to his bottle of Coke was a crisp sound that seemed almost unnaturally loud. Flynn was absorbed in taking careful bites of his burger; Yuri tapped a foot restlessly on the concrete.

"Hey Flynn," he said, waiting for him to look up. "Truth or dare."

Flynn froze for a second, eyebrow lifting as he swallowed and set his half-wrapped burger on the flattened out paper bag beside him. He brushed sesame seeds off of his hands.

"First of all," he began, "I wasn't aware that we were twelve-year-old girls at a slumber party."

"Hey—"

"Second of all," Flynn continued, not allowing Yuri to defend himself, "we're alone, on the roof of a dorm hall. I can't begin to imagine what kind of dares you might come up with, but I am pretty sure that I don't want anything to do with them."

Yuri snorted. "Alright, fine. No dares. But just for that," he said, picking up a seasoned fry and gesturing with it at Flynn as he spoke, "my questions are going to be extra obnoxious."

He bit down on the fry with a smug smile.

"…And that's different from your normal behavior how?"

"Ha. Oh, Flynn. Now you're really asking for it."

"You don't scare me, Yuri." As if to prove that fact, he calmly took another bite out of his burger, gaze steady.

"Alright. But remember, you're agreeing to answer the question. No matter what."

"Fine."

"Okay." Yuri drummed his fingers on the roof. "You have to tell me…how you lost your virginity. Y'know. Assuming that you have."

Flynn immediately made choking noises and reached for his soda, Yuri patting him helpfully on the back.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," said Yuri, as Flynn swallowed the drink and took in a gulp of air. He set his burger aside again, knees drawn up to his chest, and looked out over the roof.

"Dammit, I'm going to have to tell you this story, aren't I," he muttered, picking at a loose thread on the hem of his jeans. Flynn didn't seem reluctant enough for it to be necessary to remind him that it was actually just playful coercion, so Yuri didn't bother mentioning it.

"Yep. Tick tock."

Flynn smiled a little, shook his head, still playing with the string. "Okay, fine. …So every year when I was a kid, I would go to this summer camp for a few weeks. The last year that I went was the summer that I turned fifteen."

Yuri made a sound of acknowledgement. He'd never been to a camp, himself. Everything that he knew about them came from various movies and TV shows.

"That was also the summer that I had a huge crush on my cabin's counselor, Jake. He was—"

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait," said Yuri, making the time-out sign with his hands. "Don't tell me that you and your camp counselor…"

Flynn's eyebrows shot up. "What? No. Oh, believe me, I _wished_. But no. Wow. That would be…super illegal." He made a face.

"Alright, alright. Go on."

"Right. So, as you might imagine, I spent a lot of time looking at this guy when I thought he wouldn't notice. One afternoon he was digging around for something in his duffel bag and I was…ah, admiring the view, from my top bunk." Flynn cleared his throat. "Just looking. Then I realized that Jake wasn't the only person being watched. The kid on the top bunk directly across from me had followed my gaze and was smirking at me. I thought I was done for, destined to be ridiculed for the rest of camp."

"Hmm.."

"I froze, our eyes locked…and this kid, still smirking, flicked his eyes over at Jake and mouthed 'I know, right?'"

Yuri threw his head back against the wall and laughed. "That's awesome."

"Yeah," said Flynn, smiling. "It was. That moment was so full of possibility for me. I hadn't really known any other kids like me in school at that point. So…"

"…So?"

He chuckled. "As soon as I had a chance to chat with him away for some of the other kids, we kind of hit it off. His name was Cameron." Flynn shrugged a little, smiling ruefully. "It wasn't an epic story of summer love or anything like that. We feigned sickness a few times while the other kids went to activities, being careful not to be suspicious about it. Probably too careful, really. I doubt most counselors suspect that the kids in their same-sex cabins are hooking up."

Flynn cleared his throat. "We couldn't do much. There was always the threat of someone coming back to the cabin early and wondering why both of the supposedly sick boys were in the bathroom. At the same time."

"Nice," said Yuri, chuckling. "So, what happened after that? I'm guessing you never got caught, yeah?"

"No. No one ever caught on that I know of. After camp, Cameron and I exchanged addresses and he said he'd write letters. I wrote one. He never replied."

"Ouch."

Flynn shrugged a shoulder. "It's alright. Like I said." He left it at that, and Yuri nodded. Then a thought occurred to him, and he voiced it before he could think about whether it was a good idea.

"Hey, I thought you said you didn't do that sort of casual thing, though."

Well. _That_ was out there now. Flynn's forehead creased.

"I don't. I mean, obviously I _did_, but…not anymore. Not since then."

It answered a question that had been floating in the back of Yuri's mind, largely ignored, since that day in the coffee shop.

"Ah. Got it," he said, after a moment. "That makes a pretty good story though."

"I guess," Flynn said, sounding amused. "It's not one I care to tell many people, obviously. But yeah."

"Well, hey, I'm glad you told me," said Yuri, grinning like he hadn't practically drug it out of him. Flynn rolled his eyes.

"Right. Well, it's your turn now. Same deal."

"What, you think that's gonna bother me? Sixteen, my friend's basement, his older brother."

"Um…"

"Relax, Flynn, he was only a year ahead of me. C'mon, eat more fries, they're getting cold."

Flynn stared at him for a moment, then laughed, bangs swaying as he shook his head and reached into the fry container that Yuri was holding out to him. When his hand was halfway to the container, a distant wailing sound made them both freeze.

"…Yuri, was that…?"

Cursing, Yuri stuffed the food back into the bag. The sirens were getting closer as they hustled back down the stairs, through the dark utility closet, Yuri peeking out of a crack in the door to give the all-clear before they slipped out. A campus policeman drove by in a golf cart-like vehicle as they were making their way down the stairs of Whitehorse Hall, on his way to some emergency; Yuri waved at him until Flynn pulled his arm down and called him a reckless idiot.

"Can't believe I followed you up there," he muttered.

"You'd do it again," said Yuri, smirking.

He took Flynn's silence as answer enough.

* * *

A/N: Wow, I really didn't mean for so much time to pass between updates for this story. In fact, I left last chapter on a cliffhanger partly so that it might inspire me to write the next part. :X What I didn't count on was real life stuff messing that plan up. But things have gone a lot better recently and I managed to write a whole bunch. Mostly just Yuri and Flynn this chapter, I guess. Haha. I hope you liked it!


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